


Dare To Heir

by Caughtinblackseyes



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:04:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caughtinblackseyes/pseuds/Caughtinblackseyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Goblin Queen is unable to bear a child. Jareth's uncle plots to take over the throne. The Labyrinth calls Sarah back to save the kingdom. Can she do what the Goblin Queen can't? Dare she give Jareth an heir?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing and make no money.

**Dare To Heir**

**Chapter One**

Jareth heard the click, click, click of the healer's boots on the stone floor of his throne room although he didn't bother to immediately acknowledge him when the clicking ceased. The Minor Healer had never been in the presence of the king alone before. There had been several occasions where he'd stood with the Lead Healer but nothing other than that had ever been required of him. Now, here he was unaccompanied by his superior and was the bearer of ill news.

The Main Healer, Gavin, was still attending the queen. Wary of leaving her to the tender mercies of her ladies-in-waiting, he had been sent ahead. Fear, born of the news he was about to impart to his liege emanated off of the man in waves. Achleen wouldn't have been at all surprised if the king might actually be able smell it. His monarch was well aware of his nervous state, and did nothing to appease it.

"Your majesty?" The words from the healer were hardly more than a whisper. When there was no response from the man sitting regally on his thrown, Achleen cleared his dry throat and tried again. "I'm sorry, my lord…" Achleen faltered when the king's head swiveled toward him, and he visibly flinched at the cold passivity that graced the king's features.

Achleen was confused and somewhat shocked at this response. Shouldn't the king be feeling something at the tragic loss of his child? He looked more closely but found nothing; absolutely nothing in that stern visage. The king's eyes bored into his own, and he was reminded of the tales told about this Goblin King. None of which were pleasant. Therefore, he felt it prudent to make an effort to mask his own expression which, he felt sure, was reflecting thoughts which were far from generous in regard to the king.

On that mental note, he quickly lowered his eyes and once again felt fear envelop him. He sincerely prayed that the king was oblivious to the fact that he was less than impressed. After all, it was a well-known fact that crossing the king was not a path anyone should willingly travel accidentally or otherwise. Fortunately, the king could not read minds or, no doubt, he would be hanging over the Bog of Eternal Stench by now.

Finally, Jareth broke the unsettling silence. "The child?"

Achleen recognized the question for what it was, and answered, "A boy, my lord."

  
The healer dared another glance at the king and thought he caught a flicker of some reaction, but that notion was dispelled as the king asked in a stiff voice, "And the Queen, how does she fare?"

This was a slightly safer topic, and he hastened to reassure the king. "Physically she will recover and is doing well, my lord."

Achleen felt no need to go into the fact that she'd been in hysterics for the better part of an hour after learning her son had been still-born. In the end, she'd had to be sedated because his superior feared for her safety and mental well-being

The king dismissed him with a short, rigid nod of his head. Turning on his heels Achleen headed toward the door with as much haste as he was able to without seeming to run; breathing a sigh of relief when he slipped from his king's sight.

Jareth was tired. Tired and devastated although he never would have allowed the Healer to see an ounce of it. Such an action would be most unbecoming of a ruler and would imply a weakness that Jareth could not afford. It was yet another unfortunate trade-mark of being king.

If, he had been a regular individual faced with such a situation, he would have been permitted to express his grief openly. Sadly, he was who was and so no weeping would he be allowed. No weeping for his son who was being readied for the stone crypt where Jareth's ancestors awaited the babe's arrival.

Jareth knew he should go to his Queen and offer what comfort was in him to give, but he was unable to make himself do so. How could he comfort her when there was no avenue in which to do so, nothing left where his heart should be? He carried a stone where his heavy heart should have been; a heart as unforgiving and cold as the vault which would encase the one thing that would have breathed life and joy into this unendurable emptiness.

Standing, he walked toward the large window to look down upon the realm he ruled. The Labyrinth loomed below the horizon with its grey brick walls and pathways shimmering in the haze of the summer heat. This was his life, his destiny. There was no escaping it. At times, he didn't even mind because his land could be beautiful. Especially now with the trees ablaze in brilliant hues of every color, and his people were at their most content. Still, he knew that winter would make her presence known all too soon by blanketing everything with bitter winds and deadened life.

Jareth wiped a gloved hand across his face and braced himself for the inevitable onslaught of those who would express their sympathy. Some, of which, would undoubtedly be as false as the benign looking mermaids who dwelt within the lake beyond the castle. Sirens, who would call out to unsuspecting innocents with their false illusions of beauty only to betray, and destroy the very ones who had been lured into their treacherous arms.

Yes, the niceties must be observed. Jareth would accept the sympathies of those who secretly celebrated the lack of an heir for his kingdom Those who would continue to hope that it would remain so on the off chance that someday he would have to hand over his realm to another member of the royal circle. Political intrigue ran rampant in the Underground.

So immersed was he in his own thoughts that Jareth did not notice the entrance of his advisor until a hand rested lightly on his shoulder. If, it had been anyone other than Willum, he would have shrugged it off immediately.

Willum sighed deeply and slightly tightened his grip before removing his hand and letting it fall at his side. "My lord I offer my condolences at this most unfortunate time."

Willum did not know what else to say. Attempting to bolster a king's spirits was tricky business. One must be careful to not step beyond the proper boundaries while still offering as much help as possible. Jareth was unusual in that he allowed Willum more lee-way than was generally permitted by other monarchs who ruled in the Underground. Willum thought that Jareth knew the benefits of advice from those who were at hand to give it. He was not threatened by someone who was able to put a plan or idea together that bettered his own. To Willum's mind, that showed the true mark of a wise and intelligent leader. Haughty pride kept the majority of rulers from either extending their kingdoms or promoting amiable relations amongst the various monarchies much to their detriment.

Jareth did appreciate Willum's words but did nothing other than to state clearly and concisely, "Thank-you."

 Willum, though loath to disturb him further,  knew in his role as advisor he must do just that.

As if sensing this Jareth added in a neutral voice, "You may speak freely, Willum."

"It would perhaps be prudent to send messengers to the High King and Queen and those of the Goblin Queen's family, as well. I'm sure they are anxious to know the outcome of today's…" Willum paused … "Events."

Giselle had gone into labor early, so there had been no time to inform anyone other than the Healers and the residents of the castle of the impending birth. An announcement to the people in which Jareth ruled would also be in order.

The people loved and feared their King. This being the case, they all took great interest in the goings-on at the castle. When Jareth had protested these periodic court related missives, Willum had assured him that it was imperative for the people to be able to relate to him to some extent. It took a great deal of persuasion on his part to finally convince Jareth of this.

The fear of appearing weak was, ironically enough, one of Jareths' biggest weaknesses. Slowly but surely Willum was winning Jareth around to his way of thinking. To allow the king to be "humanized" in the eyes of his subjects, for lack of a better word, could only work in the kings' favor.

With a resigned sigh, Jareth commanded, "Make it so."

Face serious, but well schooled, Willum continued. "Should you perhaps make your way to the Queen's side? I am sure she has need of you."

Willum would like to have added that he probably had need of her as well but knew it would be a falsehood. Jareth whirled around, and Willum recognized too late he'd just crossed the line.

 

A barely suppressed rage shook the kings' body, and Willum's heart sank as he watched Jareth straighten up to his impressive height and stare down his aquiline nose before demanding harshly, "Do you presume to tell me my duty?" Jareth gestured wildly with his hands before pressing on, "Do you?"

_Here_ was the King that the people feared. The one the goblins strived to avoid when he was in the midst of a particularly bad day. It wasn't often that he was on the receiving end of Jareth's wrath. It was a mighty thing indeed, and it took all of Willum's courage not to cower before it.

"My, lord…" he began again but was cut off abruptly.

"I will do as I see fit!" Jareth all but bellowed. "You will not question me! I am your King and as such am subject to no one! Have I made myself clear?"

Willum lowered his head, bowing to Jareth while whispering, "Forgive me, my lord I meant no disrespect."

Jareth, however, would not be mollified, and through tight lips proclaimed, "You are no longer needed here; go."

Willum, correctly surmising that the King's ears would be deaf to any and all additional pleas he might have made on the queen's behalf, did as he was bade to do. He left behind him an extremely frustrated king who stood alone in the massive throne room.

Jareth's jaw clenched so tight that the grinding of teeth against one another was a pain in and of itself. He felt a pang of remorse at his treatment of Willum, knowing that he had only the best interest of Jareth's kingdom in mind. Willum was aware of his duty and followed it to the letter, which was more than could be said for his somewhat rebellious King.

The Underground society had a steady stream of stringent rules, regulations and court etiquette. Jareth, being a natural born rule-breaker, deemed such conventions archaic and beyond ridiculous. However, he was in the minority to this way of thinking and struggled to this day to apply himself to what was expected of him.

After years of relentless badgering on the part of his parents – discreetly aided and abetted by Willum – he'd bent to their demands and married a suitable Fae woman of breeding and wealth although both attributes meant little to him. True, Giselle was beautiful, and though Jareth valued beautiful things he found little in the way of actual value in his wife other than her face and body.

A child, he thought mournfully, would have been a celebrated event. The most important of his long life. It would have easily outshone the visit of a mortal girl-woman who had graced his home so briefly years ago.

 "Sarah," her name passed his lips in a whisper.

Where was she now? What had her life become? Was she, at this moment, surrounded by the children he so desperately craved? The idea of her having what he had been trying to accomplish for five years filled him with jealousy he thought himself incapable of experiencing. Not true, his treacherous mind rebuked. One other time he had felt this searing, angry jealousy. Sadly, that had been when the Labyrinth was set up as his main priority.

He brushed those thoughts aside preferring not to dwell on a time when he had been carefree. Back then, his largest concern had been which goblin to kick on any given day. Then, there was, the Labyrinth. Always he was assured of at least thirteen hours of non-stop fun as he played with the mortals who selfishly wished away that which he would have worshipped.

Stupid, stupid mortals! Ignorant beings who did not deserve to win back such precious gifts. Jareth smirked while reflecting on the fact that most of those mortals left empty-handed just as they deserved. While, he? He was left empty-handed neither through choice nor challenge but by fate. Yes, he took slight comfort from the fact that he had either thwarted the attempts of the humans or they had fallen by their own hand. All but one, he corrected himself.

There was one who had managed to defeat all that he had created. She'd conquered every wall, every hidden doorway, nook, and cranny. In the process, befriending creatures along the way that existed only in the minds and imaginations of only the most young children from Above. She had been a whirlwind of energy and determination, and nothing he had thrown her way could sway her from her task.

Against his will, Jareth had been impressed by the woman-child who defied him at every turn of his Labyrinth. She alone had walked away with the prize. He chuckled, the first that had escaped him for longer than he cared to recall. A piece of cake indeed!


	2. Chapter 2

**Dare To Heir**

**Chapter** **2**

It has been a long and exhausting day. His tiny, perfect son had been laid to rest dressed in a beautiful pristine white body length sheath. It was embroidered in golden thread with the family crest positioned over his tiny heart; a heart that had never had the opportunity to beat. Each stitch had been lovingly attached to the finest of Fae silk by the hands of Jareth's own mother. She might not always have been the most affectionate of mothers to him, but her grief over the loss of her grandchild was genuine.

Jareth had held his son only once. After Willum's departure, he put much thought into hastening to the queen's bedside. Instead of going to Giselle, he made his way to the preparatory chamber where his child was being made ready for his eventual entombment.

By Fae reckoning death was nearly unheard of, but there were occasions when it could not be staved off such as fatalities through war during hand-to-hand combat. There was no escaping the possibility of death in those circumstances. Not to mention nefarious deeds, one of which, was poisonings. Although, such things seldom happened as they could be relatively easy to trace to its source.

Then, there were situations such as this. All too many Jareth thought dismally. When he wondered, was the last time a child was born to a Fae couple. Not to the common people of his lands, for they seemed to have had no problem propagating; no difficulties whatsoever. Why were Fae children of royal ancestry destined to be in the minority?

The healers were clueless as to the cause. Extensive examinations had been undertaken of both male and females only to turn up nothing. No physical reason as to why a royal Fae woman rarely gave birth. When an actual child was produced from a coupling, the female were zealously guarded against all possible injury or harm so that there was no impediment preventing the child from reaching full fruition. Sadly, this type of protection was very rarely needed.

Jareth had entered the chamber just as his son was being wrapped in a towel after having been bathed and anointed. As he took the babe in his arms, the aroma of herbs and spices used in the oils which covered his small form, reached his nose. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply taking strange comfort in the sweet smell.

Clutching him close to his own body, Jareth was barely able to control the agony which was ripping through him. This was his son! His child! Flesh of his flesh! The emotions welling up in him were beyond reason. Why, oh why, had this horrible this happened?

The workers in the chamber were caught between embarrassment and curiosity. Was the Ice King going to break down right now, right here? The idea was mind-boggling. The queen was not one to keep her emotions in check. The king, on the other hand, was reputed to never let down his guard.

Gossip-mongering was one of the few elements which even the king was doomed to fail at controlling or suppressing in the castle; so at the moment, he was presently surrounded by a rapt audience. Some carried hopes of juicy tidbits to pass along to their friends. Alas, the chamber workers were doomed to disappointment for the king did not break down, but simply kissed the child tenderly on the brow while returning him to one of the workers, leaving the chamber without a backward glance.

* * *

The queen swept into the room, the hem of her midnight blue dress trailing behind her tall graceful body. Sparing his wife a glance, Jareth dispassionately noted how the unmistakable signs of distress marking her face did not detract from her astounding beauty. Her waist length raven-hued hair was twisted into a gravity-defying, elaborate design of curls and braids. Placed on top of this masterpiece was a delicate gold filigree crown encrusted with modest, albeit perfect diamonds. The sight of her amethyst eyes red-rimmed and slightly swollen from hours of weeping should have evoked the urge to console, but it did not.

Theirs was not a love match, not that such matches were common place. Marriages in the Underground were built upon what each could benefit from the other. Generally, the benefits were in terms of stature and money but even more important was the power one could eventually possess. The royal Fae hungered after not just any type of power, no indeed. What all the Fae strived to garner for themselves was power of magical origin. Often, when two powerful Fae merged their strengths and gifts through reproduction, the potential of their offspring was staggering.

The magical signatures left to a child by he, and Giselle would have most likely been monumental; even more so, in the event of a son. Though many realms in the Underground were competently ruled by females, the Goblin Kingdom was not one such realm. Physical stamina was needed. The goblins, though not the brightest of beings, often found themselves in situations where brute strength had to be utilized. Therefore, the genteel breeding and delicate physique of Fae women were non-conducive to such ventures.

"Jareth, where have you been?" The question was asked in a slight accusatory tone. "How am I to explain your absence?"

Giselle watched her husband casually display remarkable dexterity as he twirled four glass orbs between his leather-encased fingers and then throw them one by one in the air each disappearing without so much as a "pop" to be heard. She had always admired Jareths' proficiency with the baubles although she could state with all honesty she thought the use of them ridiculous. He was powerful enough that such garish exhibits were superfluous.

Power – the root of her attraction to Jareth, but not the sole root. No, he had other fine attributes, she would willingly admit. He was extraordinarily handsome, and came from a prestigious and renowned family and would one day take his rightful place as High King.

"My dear, I have business to attend. You may tell those hypocritical morons _that_ if you wish."

Giselle's face clouded over. "Someone has a wished a child away?"

Jareth, for once, was on a similar wavelength, and he strived to keep the bitterness from his voice. "That is exactly the case, my queen."

"Could we… If they do not… I mean… Would it be possible…?"

Jareth had never seen Giselle babble on so, and while his mother would be horrified, he found it to be vaguely amusing. Suddenly, Jareth knew precisely what was on her mind and hastened to disabuse her.

"No, Giselle!" He bit out nastily. Seeing her crestfallen expression, he added more gently, "It is not possible, you know this. There is a multitude of reasons the most important of which is that only a child of royal blood can inherit."

Wringing her hands together the distraught queen hastened to agree. "Of course, how could I have for one moment entertained such a notion?" A hollow laugh escaped her. "You must think me an idiot."

Giselle's head snapped up when she felt his fingers briefly grasp her own. It was a small measure of comfort and took her by surprise. Jareth so rarely touched her outside of the bedchamber.

"Of course not," he whispered. "You are in despair, and so your thinking is clouded. It is understandable."

At this unexpected display of gentleness, the queen let out a choked sob. Jareth was dismayed. While he felt her sorrow deeply, he did not have time for this. Someone then cleared their throat discreetly in as much as it was possible to be discreet given the situation.

"Ah, Willum, there you are." Jareth steered Giselle toward the doorway where his advisor stood. "Please, tend to the queen. I must fetch a child."

"Of course, my lord." Willum respectfully held out his arm to the queen. She placed her hand on it giving him a small smile and allowed him to lead her from the room.

With a snap of his fingers, Jareth's official court garments disappeared to be replaced by his Goblin King Stealer of Children ensemble. Form fitting, shimmering black armor embraced every muscle of his torso and arms while black boots followed the length of his breech covered legs. The stiff collar of the dark cloak framed his face making his white-blond hair a perfect foil. He looked exactly as he was meant to look. Dangerous. Frightening. Completely and utterly devoid of mercy, and today of all days, Jareth was determined to be just that… only ten-fold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews or comments are always welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get our first glimpse into Sarah's life.

**Dare To Heir** **  
** **Chapter** **3**

Sarah was tired, big time. The children had been especially difficult today, and although she loved them all; they could be a bit trying. Gideon had been absolutely no help. Oh sure, he put on a good front but in many ways, like most men, he was useless when it came to the little ones. Initially, they had started out with four kids and had then moved onto six. How she had let Gideon talk her into that was a mystery, and now he was trying to wheedle in two more!

Sarah had told him time and time again that three sets of twins were quite enough, thank-you very much, but he persisted with his puppy dog eyes and full-lipped pout. Sarah was determined that this time it was not going to work she was sticking to her guns. With her luck, she'd end up with triplets this time.

It wasn't as if they could afford to hire someone to help them out. Resources were strapped at the moment although some help other than Gideon's would have been a Godsend. Briefly she considered calling on Irene, but squashed that idea immediately. Though they had established a much better relationship over the years, Toby was still a kid himself and quite the handful at that. Besides, Irene thought she was a complete nutter and just couldn't get why she would "burden" (Irene's word) herself with two let alone four and then horror of horrors, six. She'd been absolutely gob-smacked when Sarah and Gideon had broken the news to her dad and her. Irene's look could have shriveled a lesser man, but Gideon took it all in stride.

She sighed. Gideon was getting worse, and Sarah was at a loss as to how to deal with it. She loved the man; she truly did, but love could only take a person so far. His lackadaisical outlook was as much of a problem as trying to change two dirty diapers at once. Not that he would know. At first he'd been so gung-ho and was just as invested as she was, but as time moved along he'd started to shirk some of his duties, leaving the majority to Sarah to finish off herself. It was completely frustrating!

There were moments when Sarah would wonder what life would have been like for her if she hadn't met Gideon when she was eighteen. If, she hadn't, let things get so out of hand. She knew it'd been a tremendous disappointment to her father when she'd told him that she wasn't going to the Beaumont School of Performing Arts. Tennessee was, at this point, a no-go. Even to this day, Irene and her dad had been hoping that eventually Sarah would shift the duties of the children to Gideon and finally follow her dream.

While she wouldn't exchange the kids for all the tea in China, Sarah would be lying if she said those same thoughts hadn't passed through her noggin. It was still a possibility. After all, twenty-three wasn't old or anything, but it also wasn't the care-free, comfortable existence she'd enjoyed in her mid-to-late teens; everything was so much more complicated now.

She schlepped herself into the nearest chair with a groan. Carrying around toddlers and babies all day was making her ache. You'd think by now that she'd be used to lugging the little darlings from here to there. Her musings were cut short when the door at the far end of the room burst open, admitting the very person whom she'd been ruminating on.

"Hello, dear heart." Gideon waltzed to where she was sitting and placed what he hoped would be a placating kiss on her cheek.

Sarah, too tired to get worked up, only asked, "Where have you been?"

Encouraged by her calm demeanor, he smiled showing off perfect white teeth. He knew how to work it and work it good. After all what was the sense of having good looks if one couldn't use them to your advantage, Sarah thought wryly. She knew that, although he used his charms shamelessly on her and others that it was a benign charm and not the smarmy charm of a used car salesmen.

His one regret was that he'd never been able to win over Irene. She was one of the few women who were totally immune to his winning ways. There wasn't a chance in hell that Irene would ever warm up to him. Sarah knew that although Irene never came out and said the exact words to her face, she got her point across just fine with a look. Irene believed that Gideon had been the ruination of all that Sarah had once aspired to be. She didn't doubt that many a night her father and step-mother sat around the kitchen table discussing the loss of her "golden opportunities" as Irene called them.

"I stopped by the mini-mart and got your favorite caramel-mocha coffee," he replied while producing a large Styrofoam cup from behind his back.

She took it from him gratefully enjoying how the warmth from the cup penetrated her chilled hands. His timely offering didn't stop her from lifting a skeptical eyebrow and questioning in a low voice, "For three hours?"

Not in the least bit flustered, he flashed that smile of his again while stating, "I know how much you dislike coffee that's been sitting around awhile. I stayed until the old stuff was empty and waited until fresh was brewed for you. It was no big deal. Nothing is where you're concerned."

Sipping the piping hot brew, Sarah wondered how best to broach the subject that had been weighing on her mind and just decided to go for broke. "Are you happy?"

Gideon looked confused. Grabbing a chair, he pulled it around to face her and straddled the seat as he positioned his forearms so that they rested on the back of the chair. He looked down at the floor briefly before meeting her eyes, his own unusually serious. "Of course I am." He reached for her free hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Aren't you?"

Sarah was a bit surprised. It had been a long time since he'd asked her that question. She supposed that since she hadn't actively admitted it that of course he'd have no idea what she was feeling. She gulped down another swallow of the coffee which was rapidly becoming lukewarm. She almost laughed at the irony. The coffee she held was a good example of their relationship at this point. How do you tell someone you love that you aren't happy? An unhappy which was bordering on miserable, truth be told.

"After all, dear heart I treat you like a queen," he joked while performing a sweeping bow to the best of his ability while seated.

Sarah couldn't help it; she giggled into her cup. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Gideon still managed to find a way to make her laugh. It was truly one of his gifts. Stifling another giggle, she stated, "You're the queen bee around here, not me."

"Yes, well I certainly dress better." He puffed his chest out causing his pale blue dress shirt to gape open until a hint of tanned flesh could be seen. Gideon then made a great show of straightening the cuffs and collar. Dark dress pants with perfect pleats down the front adorned his legs. His blond hair was gelled into spikes sticking out in different directions, and he had the bluest eyes she had ever seen. He was definitely a walking fashion plate.

Sarah was well aware that, in contrast, she looked like a badly put together soccer mom. Her shorts consisted of cutoff blue jeans washed so many times they looked almost grey. The T-shirt – which had seen better days – was dark blue with splashes of acid white. One time she'd asked Gideon to do the laundry and he'd managed to mix white with colors. Add to that with a healthy dose of bleach and you were bound to end up with the T-shirt which now graced her trim figure. Let's face it. Long days filled with various forms of spit up, runny noses, filthy hands, food-laden angelic faces and poop-filled diapers were not the ideal situation for swanning around in ones' best. Attempting to be a fashion icon while dealing with youngsters just wasn't on.

"Listen," Gideon said quietly, "If there's a problem, we should talk about it before it gets bigger than both of us."

To her dismay, Sarah felt tears burning at the back of her eyes and struggled to hold them at bay. Sweet, sweet, Gideon; he took the nearly empty cup from her hand and set it on one of the plastic tables which littered the room. Hunkering down, Gideon grasped her chin between his fingers and lifted her face until he could see her clearly.

What he saw in her lovely green eyes worried him and Gideon wasn't one to worry. He barely knew the meaning of the word, but now seeing what he must have been blind to have missed for God knew how long had his gut clenching into a tight ball of worry - worry and fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and comments are welcome.
> 
> I own nothing and make no money.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day in the life of Sarah Williams and her partner in crime, Gideon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It'll be a few more chapters before Sarah and Jareth meet up because I really need to give you more insights into both their lives before the big reunion.

 

* * *

**  
**

**Dare To Heir**

**Chapter Four**

It was naptime at the Daily Delights Day Care Center for which Sarah was supremely grateful. She could do with a nap herself. She had just rolled out Millie's blue mat when her twin sister Mary Lou grumbled, "Don't wanna lay down. Wanna play."

Gideon was having similar problems with young Jesse and his brother James only those two little terrors were turning it into a tag team-wrestling match worthy of the WWF. Sarah grinned when a rather winded Gideon, part owner of the day care, muttered something under his breath about never having children of his own. He might be having issues with the little darlings right now but Sarah knew he genuinely enjoyed working and playing with the little buggers. Someday, after Gideon grew up, he'd make a fine father.

It had been his brainchild to start up the day care business and while it had been as far removed from Sarah's original dream as one could get, it had turned into a rewarding and worthwhile experience. She hadn't had much in the way of capitol to help Gideon fund this little venture but he hadn't minded. The only thing he required was her willingness to help him with the children and Sarah had been happy to do that for him. They'd been working together for just about four years now and each day brought a new challenge.

In the beginning, times had been tough with nary a child candidate in sight, they'd trudged onward anyway as best they could. They dealt with crushing financial crisis of the worst sort until hope of hopes the applicants began turning up on their doorstep.

First, there had been Jesse and James Utz. Their parents, working class people, desperately needed a place for the boys having no relatives in the surrounding area who could keep on eye on them while they worked. They hadn't much money as they needed both incomes to make ends meet. So, Gideon had cut them a deal. If the Utz's could spread the word, be a sort of walking advertisement for the new day care center, they would be charged only half price They had readily agreed. After that, the applicants had really started to roll in.

Unfortunately, their tiny facility had room to house only six to eight youngsters so there were quite a few parents who had been turned away. Though due to the indisputable fact that children grow up, the day care virtually had a revolving door attached to the front of the building. The plastic toddler seats were barely cool after the departure of one of their "alumni" to the gates of kindergarten, before it was once again filled.

What amused _and_ bemused Sarah was how after all the turning wheels had come to a partial stand-still, they'd ended up with three sets of twins? It wasn't as if they'd taken out an ad in the Weekly Chronicle begging for the parents of twin children to plop them down in their front lawn. No, it had just been some strange quirk of fate or according to Gideon: God had an extremely sadistic sense of humor.

Millie obediently curled up on her mat while her stubborn sister stood with her chubby little arms crossed with a mutinous expression on her face. Sarah marveled at how different in looks and temperament the two girls were.

Mary Lou definitely was the leader of this dynamic duo. In Sarah's opinion she was bordering on being a bully; a major accomplishment at fives years old. Possibly she'd picked up this attitude from her mother.

Soon though, they would be losing Millie and Mary Lou because kindergarten was in their immediate future. They probably wouldn't have had them to begin with but for Millie and Mary Lou's father. Mr. Harding had come in and looked the place over and determined that the Daily Delights Day Care would suit him and his girls' just fine. His wife, however, had been an entirely different kettle of fish altogether. She'd sashayed in - there was no other word for it – a week after her husbands' visit. She'd spared Sarah a derisive glance, and gave her surroundings the same look before declaring the place "totally inadequate" for her daughters' needs.

Gideon was just returning from a meeting with his lawyer when he'd come upon Sarah desperately attempting to change the mind of Mrs. Mason-Harding as she snootily informed Sarah she preferred to be addressed as. He'd interceded using his considerable charm to seamlessly allay the woman's fears.

One look, one look was all it took for _Mrs._ Mason-Harding to drastically change her tune. Now that Laura – as she so graciously gave Gideon permission to call her – turn up sudden turn around, and decided that her little sweet ones were in his capable hands.

Sarah had been hard-pressed to keep her lunch down in her stomach where it belonged at the woman's saccharine fawning. Even all these years later whenever Mrs. Mason-Harding (Sarah had never been granted the same privilege of referring to her as anything other than her married name) deigned to enter their quaint little establishment, Sarah had to fight down the urge to retch. Sarah prayed for the evenings when Millie and Mary Lou's father walked through the door instead of their man-eating mother. Mr. Harding seemed like a nice, quiet man which was a welcome reprieve from his wife's constant flirting and hair flipping.

"Listen sweetheart," Sarah said to Mary Lou while taking her plump little hand and pulling her gently toward the mat situated next to her sister. "Everyone's lying down for a nap. Look, over there," Sarah, pointed to where Gideon had just settled the rambunctious boys. "Mr. Gideon's tucking the boys in."

Gideon had just draped a multi-colored throw rug over the little bodies turned back to back to each other. Jesse was sucking his thumb, a habit that they had been trying to break him of but so far had experienced no success. James' eyes were fluttering as Gideon gently stroked the soft skin of his rosy cheek, lulling James into a light dose.

Sarah looked quickly to the cribs a few feet away. She could distinguish quite clearly through the slats that neither of the 14-month-old children was sleeping yet. She could make out their contented gurgles and Sarah smiled. They were such good-natured little ones. Gillian and Gabe were fraternal twins. Both had a thatch of reddish-brown hair and big caramel colored eyes, Sarah adored them. She was fond of all the children, who wouldn't be, but she had a special soft spot for the babies.

Now that he had the gruesome twosome in dreamland Sarah could see Gideon tiptoeing to where she was still trying to cajole Mary Lou into following their example. No doubt, _he_ would have more success. This little tyke was certainly turning out to be a miniature of her mother in more ways than one.

Gideon bent down on one knee so that he could look Mary Lou directly in her quicksilver grey eyes. "If you're a good girl and lie down I'm sure Miss Sarah will sing you to sleep."

Sarah did a double take. Sing? Where the hell did he get the ludicrous notion that she could carry a tune? "I can't _sing_ ," Sarah, sputtered quietly out of the corner of her mouth.

Gideon's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline and he chortled, "Of course you can! I've heard you countless times in the shower." Blue eyes gleaming, he teased, "You sure know how to hit those high notes."

Clenching her hands together into tight fists Sarah proclaimed through gritted teeth, "There is no way in h…,"

"Uh, uh, uh," Gideon admonished while motioning toward Mary Lou who was listening avidly. "Little ears and all that…"

Sarah sent him a death glare silently promising retribution at a later date, which he calmly ignored.

"Now then," he spoke to Mary Lou sounding quite pleased with him self, "we must follow our part of the bargain."

Mary Lou was much more compliant now and quickly lowered herself onto her mat. A whimper from one of the cribs drew Sarah's attention away from the little girl. Sarah hurried to the crib. Gillian's arms were waving about which a sure sign that she wanted to be picked up. She noted that Gabe was lightly snoring and was blowing tiny bubbles in the process.

Gillian babbled happily as Sarah hefted her onto her waiting shoulder. She snuggled into the warmth of Sarah's neck. It was one of the best things about holding a baby Sarah thought. This… this magically wonderful feeling of a tiny life burrowing deep, not only into the crook of your neck, but into the heart as well. A feeling of love unlike any other flowed through her entire being. Someday, she promised herself, someday.

Gideon sat in one of the two rocking chairs in the room while Sarah commandeered the other. They were a purchase that she had insisted on and they were definitely put to good use. She was gently, but steadily rocking to and fro and as promised she began to sing. Contrary to what she believed, Sarah was quite good and he enjoyed the soft lilt of her contralto voice.

_Somewhere out there beneath the pale moonlight, someone's thinking of you and loving you tonight._

_Somewhere out there someone's saying a prayer that we'll find one another in that big somewhere out there._

_And even though I know how very far apart we are it helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star_

_And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby it helps to think we're sleeping underneath the same big sky_

_Somewhere out there if love can see us through, then we'll be together somewhere out, out where dreams come true._

Gideon surveyed her thoughtfully through heavily lidded eyes. She looked beautiful, her face enraptured as she finished the song and pressed her lips against the top of little Gillian's sleeping head. He'd been in love with Sarah for what seemed like forever and seeing her with a baby wrapped in her arms only served to cement that love. He hoped that eventually they would carry their relationship further. Some day, Gideon promised himself, someday that would be his child cradled in her arms.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments/Reviews are appreciated and nice to get!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jareth prepares himself (both mentally and physically) for a dinner in which his wife and his parents will be in attendance although he finds it difficult to concentrate on anything other than Sarah's seemingly perfect life.

 

**Dare To Heir** **  
** **Chapter** **5**

Jareth hurled the glass orb with the power of his well-muscled body behind it. The globe smashed into a million crystal shards, the majority of which rained down on Nargle's knobby head. No one could accuse Nargle of being the brightest of goblins, but he had more smarts than most and the king had been in a temper for well over a week.

Nargle wished that he'd just kick a few goblins and get it out of his system. Apparently the king hadn't been in a kickin' mood. It was a shame really as several of the goblins was getting a bit uppity. Marta – the cook – had been forced to use one of her many silver serving spoons to teach them a much-needed lesson. Nargle shuddered; Marta was deadly with her spoons.

"Uh, your worshipfulness," Nargle hesitated, twisting his knotty-knuckled fingers together in anxiety. "The queen is wantin' me to tell youse bout the High King and Queen cumin' to eats ternight."

Nargle had relatively quick reflexes, but was not able to dodge the well-aimed lightening-like strike of the kick before it connected with his lumpy head. Staggering, he fell back onto the floor and rolled a few feet. He lay still with his arms and legs sprawled out on either side of his short, dumpy body. Hallelujah, was Nargle's first semi-coherent thought. Finally, somethin' other than the stony silence that had become a regular occurrence. That was somehow much more frighten' than the king's violent outburst of physical retribution.

Nargle struggled to his feet hearing nothing but the buzzing in his ears. He attempted to brush off the slivers of glass which were now sticking to his plain brown tunic. He grunted when one pierced his nearly impenetrable skin. Nargle spoke through the filter of his finger while sucking at the small bubble of blood that pooled there. "Youse be cumin'?"

Nargle eyed the king warily checking for signs that another kick in the head was in his immediate future. He might be glad the king were shown' signs of his old self, but gettin' kicked once was 'nuff.

"Of _course_ I'm coming you idiot!"

Nargle beamed; flashing a set of broken and rotted teeth. He scurried away thankful that he could go back to his queen with the good news... The king was comin'.

It was just as Jareth had feared. Sarah – he felt an unwanted flash of warmth just thinking about her – had everything that he desired for himself, and it was not fair. He thought it ironic that the very words Sarah had stated to him so long ago are the very words he was now using himself. Back then he had blithely ignored her distress. It appeared as if, once again, fate had thrust his misdeeds under his nose by repaying him in kind.

Jareth ran an unsteady hand through his mass of white-blonde hair. He was still shaken by the images he had witnessed in the now thoroughly destroyed crystal. He wished he had never given in to the temptation to peer into the life of the young woman who had captivated him all those long ago years. She looked happy, truly happy, and it infuriated him. He knew that his was an illogical reaction. Never-the-less, frustration and anger ate away at his insides. The vision of the young woman singing softly to the child nestled close to her heart was seared into his brain. No matter how many crystals he shattered, and no matter how many goblins that he kicked the chances of these previously unknown emotions being abated by such endeavors was slim.

Six months on, Jareth was still recovering from the loss of his son and to witness Sarah with a child had been unbearable. Giselle had been hinting at trying again. She was still desperate to give him an heir. Her argument had been that they had come so close to realizing their dream, but Jareth had firmly shaken his head in the negative. Giselle, not willing to let his word stand, grabbed at his arm her nails digging into the skin of his wrist in her zeal to get him to agree. He had looked pointedly at her hand, but she had not immediately released him as he had been expecting. Instead, she lent in close, her lovely eyes filling with despair, begging to be allowed to try once more. A lesser king might have been swayed. Jareth was not a lesser king. While he was not immune to her suffering – far from it – he was unable to share his own suffering heart with her. Something, which she had made clear, that she desired.

It had also become apparent that Giselle wanted companionship. It was a state of affairs which had become more obvious since the passing of their child. She had begun to act as if they were a truly, happily married couple. Why, she wanted to play these games, was beyond him. The truth of their union was well known, so why was she suddenly changing the rules? He avoided her as much as possible which had been a relatively easy feat to accomplish.

Jareth had more responsibilities than most would assume. In addition to retrieving children who had been wished away, he also listened and ruled upon differences amongst his people. It was a daily routine which often took up several hours of his time. It was amazing the disputes the village people brought before their king. A few bordered on the ridiculous and as asinine as it sounded those were the disputes he enjoyed the most. They were a welcome source of amusement to break up a relatively boring day. Not to say that there were not issues of a serious nature to judge. Land disputes were common as was ownership of livestock. Those disputes often took several hours, several boring hours. Boring was a death knell in Jareth's opinion. Nevertheless, it was a significant component of his duties and could not be pawned off onto anyone else.

Jareth entered his bedchamber intent on preparing himself for his parents visit. Giselle's room lay just beyond the adjoining door where, no doubt, she was getting ready too. Jareth shucked out of one of the many white, silk-ruffled shirts that he so often favored. They were loose and comfortable while still being flattering to his fine form. Jareth might enjoy comfort, but style was just as important in his opinion.

Stripping off his black knee-high boots, he made a mental note to have Nargle fetch them. A thorough polish and buff was clearly needed before the evening meal. His dove grey breeches soon followed lying in a messy pile next to the boots. He absolutely dreaded his parents' visits. Jareth considered these visits more of a chore than all of his duties put together. He would be expected, as he had in childhood, to be on his best behavior. A feat he found extremely trying. Nevertheless, try he must. His parents would stand for nothing less. Thankfully, Willum would be present, and he was a calming influence, and it was one of the many reasons he was so valuable to Jareth.

His parents were also aware of Willum's worth and had considered him an invaluable ally. When they had gone into their Machiavellian machinations when Giselle had reached marriageable age, Willum had been very persuasive and quite instrumental in engendering their courtship and eventual marriage. Jareth's parents had ample reason to be grateful to Willum.

Naked, Jareth walked quickly to the antechamber off to the other side of his room. Gooseflesh rose on his skin from the chill in the air. He waved his hand over the marble step-down Roman style tub, and it immediately filled up with hot water. Mists of spicy-scented steam drifted up toward the domed ceiling of the bathing chamber. Sliding into its' welcoming depths, a groan of bliss escaped his mouth. The heated water began to work on his tense and tight muscles. Never-the-less, the specter from the crystal persisted. In his minds' eye he, once again, witnessed Sarah crooning the unforgettable lullaby. She had sung it so sweetly, and with such tenderness.

_Somewhere_ _out_ _there_ _beneath_ _the_ _pale_ _moonlight_ _, someone's'_ _thinking_ _of_ _you_ _and_ _loving_ _you_ _tonight_.

It had been obvious how much she loved the child which she held. He recalled the day he'd held his own lost, little one. The love that had poured through him had been astounding. Is that what Sarah had felt too? That, all encompassing love, which no other could rival?

_Somewhere_ _out_ _there_ _someone_ _'s_ _saying_ _a_ _prayer_ _that_ _we_ _'ll_ _find_ _one_ _another_ _in_ _that_ _big_ _somewhere_ _out_ _there_.

How often had he prayed to every deity he knew in existence? Entreated and begged, only to be disappointed time and time again.

_And_ _even_ _though_ _I_ _know_ _how_ _very_ _far_ _apart_ _we_ _are,_ _it_ _helps_ _to_ _think_ _we_ _might be_ _wishing_ _on_ _the_ _same_ _bright_ _star_ _._

Jareth grunted at the thought of wishes being flung up to the stars in the hopes that they would be granted. He knew well that stars were nothing but empty bright lights void of all magical powers, yet foolish humans continued to hope.

At least they continued to hope, his treacherous thoughts reminded him; even when their wishes and prayers went unanswered they still hoped. Yet, you scorn their belief, and revel in your own magical powers, but to what end? The stars may be void of magic, but then again, what have you gained from magic? Nothing whatsoever except an empty nursery, an empty crib, and an empty existence.

* * *

Sarah should have been content now that Gideon had begun pulling his weight where the Day Care was concerned. She should have been content with the long list of youngsters waiting to enter their humble establishment as soon as a spot became vacant. She should have been happy that Gideon was willing to learn the financial end of the business. She should have been happy that he'd volunteered to help with the paperwork. The gesture on his part had been sweet, but unexpected. She grimaced. Unfortunately, paperwork - finances in particular - was not his forte. His math skills were appalling, and his ability at inaccurately reviewing order forms and inventory were more a hindrance than a help.

When she could stand it no longer, she'd banned him from the back office room with a shooing motion of her hands. Not that he looked especially miserable at this ostracism, she thought ruefully. Gideon was definitely the P.R. man while she was more of the behind-the-scenes-take-care-of-the-real-world necessities of the business.

Through the half-open office door, Sarah could see Gideon handing Gabe over to his father and Gillian to Clara, the twins' aunt. Placing her pen on the desk Sarah couldn't help but dream about the day when she would have a baby of her own. It was a desire that always been in the back of her mind a dream for someday. Lately, however, that desire had begun to grow in strength. It had become an almost overwhelming sense of need, relentlessly poking and prodding until her body virtually hummed with its' power. It confused Sarah. It wasn't as if she were old enough for her biological clock to be kicking in; she still had plenty of time.

Irene would be up in arms if she knew the passion in which Sarah wished to have a child, with her father no doubt following right behind. Hell, she wasn't even dating anyone! Still, everything in her was crying out, urging her to hurry. Sarah was afraid the burning, painful ache wouldn't go away and that she might die unless she obeyed.

Sarah's head started to throb while black dots began to swim in her line of vision. Where the hell were all these crazy thoughts coming from? Who in their right mind would get it into their head that they would die if they didn't have a baby? With unsteady hands, she attempted to push herself upright, but a wave of dizziness overtook her. She swayed on her feet as if in a drunken stupor.

Through hazy eyes, she could just make out Gideon locking up the doors. She stretched her arm out in an attempt to catch his attention. Without turning toward her, Gideon headed to the table where the kids had made hand-prints on paper in washable paint. He snapped the lids back onto the jars so they wouldn't dry out, and used a cloth to wipe down the table surfaces. Good 'ole Gideon, he really was trying to redeem himself. He wouldn't usually risk getting paint – washable or not – on his immaculate attire. That was her last thought before her legs gave out beneath her, and she plummeted to the floor.

* * *

With a sharp cry, Jareth jerked upright, splashing tepid water all around his body. At first, he was not sure of his whereabouts. His head felt as if it was filled with several pairs of Nargles' heavy wool socks. He frantically looked this way and that, scanning the room, trying to get his bearings. Had he fallen asleep in the bath? He had never done such a thing before, no matter how exhausted he had been. He slowly wiped the excess moisture from his face, still bemused by what had happened. He felt shaken, that much he could admit, shaken and out of control. Both, of which, were little known to him. Could he stand? He was not sure if he had the strength.

He took his time. When he did finally manage to regain his footing, he was pleased to discover that while his legs wobbled dangerously, they held firm. Carefully he climbed the few steps of the bath. He shivered uncontrollably, rubbing his arms with his hands to work warmth back into his frozen body.

A fire is what was needed to chase away this damnable chill, Jareth decided as soon as his teeth began to chatter. With a negligent wave of his hand, he demanded that the fire alight. He was almost to his bed when he realized there was no answering warmth. Annoyed, he turned his naked form toward the fireplace. Incredulous, he thought to himself, this cannot be! The grate of the fire pit was littered with spent, cold ashes and that was all. Otherwise, it was completely barren, with no flame whatsoever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unbeta'd so please forgive any mistakes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jareth dines with his wife, and his parents as well as an unexpected (and unwelcome) guest.
> 
> Gideon prays that Sarah will be all right.

 

**Dare To Heir**

**Chapter** **6**

Orlaith stabbed at the tender, perfectly steamed asparagus with her elegantly engraved silver fork. It went against the grain of good manners as she was more or less attacking the defenseless vegetable. There was something strange going on here. Something felt… off. Her son was far too quiet, too composed, too… something! She could not place her finger on it, and it was aggravating her to no end. She was surreptitiously watching Jareth beneath the thick fall of her lashes noting his paler than usual complexion. Although pale and chalky, a dark red flush sat on the skin of his high cheekbones. That, in conjunction with the glassy look to his eyes, was cause for concern. Clearly off, she decided. Was her son ill? It was rare for one of their race to become so.

Whilst it was true that to the eyes of others, the race of the Fae looked as fragile and as beautiful as the bone china set on the table before her, it was a deceptive illusion. Humans, she scoffed to herself, were the most idiotic mortals she had ever had the misfortune to come across face-to-face. They were all silly creatures, the females in particular who wove their obnoxious dreams of handsome princes. Fantasies which would, of course, never see the light of day. She knew of Fae folk who would occasionally dally with the humans, but only for a moment's pleasure. Mortals were not for marrying. Orlaith shuddered at the very idea. Being bound and hung over his son's Bog of Eternal Stench would be preferable.

Raising her wine-filled goblet to her lips, Orlaith was once again reminded as to why Giselle was all that a mother-in-law could desire. She was a rare beauty even amongst their kind who was renowned for their loveliness. Giselle had been brought up to be a lady of the highest standard as was befitting a woman of royal heritage. Slight though that royal lineage might be, it was enough to satisfy Orlaith. Add to the fact that she came from a fine family - rich in its' own right - made for other benefits to be sure, but not a necessity. Jareth had riches twice over to that of Giselle's family. However, more than all of these fine attributes put together she was highly prized for the power which flowed through the veins beneath the whiteness of her skin.

Still, the gaiety which Giselle was wont to shower upon her dinner guests was sorely lacking this evening, which was a surprise in and of itself. If anything, Giselle was often prone to rather overdo proceedings to the point of extravagance. Once or twice she had bordered on distasteful. Yet, somehow or other Giselle would manage to reign it in, and all the lavishness became quite entertaining.

No doubt Giselle still mourned the loss of the child, something which would account for her abysmal skills of hostess. Orlaith sighed deeply. It had indeed been a blow to the family. Orlaith, herself, had shed more than a few tears over the entire situation. Aelfric had taken the news most dreadfully, and had locked himself away in his private study for hours seeing no one, including her.

Jareth was so much like his father. Both were men of deep, hidden emotions. Seeking council and solace from others was not in their nature. Jareth also had the look of his father; both Fae men being taller than average with thick, luxurious white-gold hair. Her husband - when he was a younger – had worn his hair in much the same manner as Jareth. Now, he kept his lovely locks closely cropped to his head. It had taken Orlaith quite some time to accustom herself to the change, but Aelfric had decided that it would be much more dignified than the wild mane he once had. Orlaith was well aware that there were many ladies would wish to replace her. None could take up the mantel of Queen; that was hers alone. Still, none would balk at obtaining the title of concubine to the king. Thankfully, Aelfric chose not to indulge in that disgusting custom. Orlaith found it degrading and abhorrent.

The High King's brother, on the other hand, had no such qualms. Bare months had passed after his wedding before he had taken not one but two of his wife's ladies-in-waiting as his lovers. Neither of which, had yet borne him a child, Orlaith thought with spiteful satisfaction. Kalea was a child-hood friend; they had practically been raised together as sisters, and there remained a close bond between them even unto adulthood. Orlaith had not been in favor of her friends' marriage, but could do nothing other than watch in despair as Kalea pledged herself to the despicable man. He had brought her gentle friend nothing other than heartache and for that Orlaith held him in the deepest contempt. She forced herself to look in Raedeltf's direction and found his eyes already focused on her. It was disconcerting, the manner in which he stared. Though he was just as handsome as her son and husband, it was a cold, cruel beauty and well she knew it.

There had been a time, before Jareth's birth, when Raedeltf had encouraged Aelfric to take Raedeltf's young niece as his concubine. Her husband had refused and yet his brother had persisted in his plan knowing full well how it had pained her. It was a great relief when Orlaith found herself pregnant. The look of unadulterated wonder and joy in her husbands' eyes when she had proudly announced her happy condition was a moment that would live on in her memory forever.

Sadly, Kalea had not been so fortunate. If the words of the ladies who attended to the High Queen were anything to go by, Raedeltf was well on his way to acquiring a third woman upon which to force his attentions; an unfortunate state of affairs to be sure. How did her friend endure her lout of a husbands' behavior?

Orlaith returned her brother-in-laws stare, refusing to flinch under his scrutiny. He seemed to find this amusing for his lips twisted into a satisfied smirk and Orlaith was horrified to realize just where she had seen a similar expression; on the face of her own son. It took every ounce of discipline to keep her face passive at her discovery. She would not give him the satisfaction of viewing her distress. They are family Orlaith quickly reminded herself. It was not in the least unusual for a nephew to also take on the characteristics her husbands' brother. Not in the least unusual, Orlaith felt comfort in her rationalization. Jareth was not like Raedeltf!

It was true Jareth was prideful, as was all of the High Kings family, but Jareth was not a callous man nor was he cruel. His treatment of the goblins was not a reliable barometer. The little beasts were in need of a firm hand, and actually thrived on Jareths' kicks and insults. Orlaith did not quite understand the concept, but the devotion the goblins showed to Jareth was without question. It was obvious that they adored him.

* * *

Willum was worried. The High King and Queen were watching Jareth and Giselle like hawks, and it was highly disturbing. On one hand, Willum could understand the intensity of their stares for Jareth was behaving oddly. More oddly than usual, Willum corrected himself. Giselle appeared to be faring no better. From where he sat, he could see that she was twisting and turning her napkin into knots. Normally, Giselle was the epitome of proper etiquette, so her actions were a bit baffling. In fact, the entire occupants of the food-laden table appeared to be lacking in good manners this evening. Conversation had been minimal even though the meal was almost completed.

Willum dipped the tips of his fingers into the small bowl of water to cleanse them of the lingering residue from the succulent geese. Marta had outdone herself the food had been flawless. He returned the bowl to Bebbin, the serving maid while she in turn passed him a small square towel to dry his fingers. He observed that the hostess and the guests were following suit. Jareth, to his surprise, was not. His plate – which looked as if it had been untouched – still sat in front of him. It was customary to wait for a nod from the host before the removal of dinnerware. Jareth had made no move to do so. Why?

Willum fixed his gaze firmly on Jareths' face. With a start, he realized just how unwell his lord looked. Jareths' head had begun to bob up and down as if he were struggling to remain conscious. It did not take long for him to come to the conclusion that it was not sleep that Jareth was attempting to fight off. Willum rose hurriedly to his feet. Terror made him move swiftly along the length of the table; ignoring the shocked gasps which precipitated his actions. His only thought was to get to the king. He was just about to Jareths' side when Jareth let out a loud groan and tumbled off the side of his chair. Willum leapt the last few feet to grab the king just before his head could bash against the stone floor.

* * *

Gideon didn't know the last time he'd been this scared. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Sarah fall face first, hitting the floor with a loud thump. He sprinted to where she lay and noticed that a small pool of blood had begun a slow, steady descent from the corner of her mouth. Heart pounding, he gingerly turned her so that she was on her back. He gasped at the sight of her, and his tortured groan echoed off the walls in the office. Had she broken her nose? He didn't think so. It didn't look as if it were at an awkward angle or anything. Surely, if it were broken, he'd be able to tell.

He gently brushed a thick strand of hair back from covering part of her face. Yes, there was definitely blood around the mouth. He carefully pushed her head to one side so she wouldn't choke on any of it while he continued his examination. He could tell from the rise and fall of her chest that she was still breathing. Okay. Excellent. There was a large bruise beginning to form on one of her cheekbones and a nasty looking brush burn on her nose and chin. She must have scraped them on the carpet. Her knees were also rubbed raw. She had been wearing those hideous crocs again, and when she'd toppled over she'd lost one of her shoes. Her foot looked vulnerable in its nakedness. She was always claiming those nasty things were comfortable and were a great support for her lower back. Gideon just thought she wore them to irritate his sensibilities and told her so. She'd laughed and teasingly informed him that not everything was about him.

"Sarah! Sarah, wake up, love." He placed a hand on her forehead and quickly pulled it back. My God! She was burning up!

He grabbed the phone from the desk and punched in 911 as fast as his shaky, numb fingers would allow. In a barely coherent voice, he gave the dispatcher his name, address, telephone number and all he knew concerning Sarah and what had happened. Everything he said sounded as if it had come out of his mouth a garbled mess. Maybe the dispatcher was used to that because she seemed to have understood him fine. It was a relief when she told him that an ambulance was on the way. Gideon, eyes glued to Sarah's unconscious and battered face held her hand and prayed. It was something he hadn't done since he was a kid, but he prayed now, prayed with all that he had. Gideon gave a choked sob. Please, he begged, please be okay!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jareth recovers. Sarah does not.

 

 

* * *

  


**Dare To Heir**

**Chapter** **7**

"Get away from me you fumbling idiot," the king demanded, his voice harsh but still quite hoarse.

Oh, the words were the king's all right but without the ferocious force behind them, it was difficult for Nargle to take him seriously. Nargle ignored him and dipped the cloth back into the basin of cool water, and then wrung out the cloth and placed it on the king's forehead. His worshipfulness had been sick for days, and the entire castle had been in an uproar. Nargle had stayed by the king's bedside wiping his feverish brow the entire time. Twas a great relief to all when the king finally began to come round.

"I _said_ , get away from me! Are you deaf as well as dumb?" Jareth swiped the damp cloth from his head, balled it up in his hand, and with a growl, threw it at Nargle.

It struck Nargle directly on his broad, grotesque face slipping down where it dangled off of his bulbous nose. Nargle grinned behind his wet veil. His worshipfulness must be getting better; his aim had improved considerably since yesterday.

"Your worshipfulness," he started, "Meanin' no disrespect, but the High Queen told me to stay and take care of his highness." Nargle gave the king a self-satisfied grin. "I aim to do just what the High Queen asked."

Jareth glared at Nargle out of bleary, red-rimmed eyes. Confound it! Was it his mothers' intention to deliberately torture him? Could not she have, at least, tended to him? Jareth snorted. What state of delirium was he still in to have entertained such an absurd notion. Even as a child, when ill, Jareth could recall his mothers' reluctance to expose herself to the dangerous germs that apparently inhabited the air of Jareths' room. He had whined and cried for her as young, sick children are wont to do, but she did not come. Instead, servants had accompanied the healers and watched over him until he was fully recovered. It had left an indelible mark on Jareth, and he had vowed never to deprive his children of a fathers' comfort if they were ever to become ill.

It was highly unlikely that he would be utilizing that promise. Giselle and he would remain childless. His head fell feebly onto his pillow, and he closed his eyes to hide the prickling sheen of unshed tears. How mortifying, Jareth thought, but found that he was just too tired to care if Nargle noticed his momentary weakness.

Nargle sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, staining the sleeve of his tunic with thick, greenish snot. His worshipfulness be needn' his alone time. He would go to let the High Queen know that her son is feelin' much better in body iffin', not in soul. Nargle would keep that last bit to his self.

* * *

It was the unsteady beep of the machine that jolted Gideon out of his light doze. Blinking the grit from his eyes, he sat up, groaning when his back protested the lack of a comfortable seat. Another out of place beep had him standing and reaching for the call bell attached to the bed rail with urgent fingers.  
Gideon spun around when with a sharp swish the privacy curtain was pulled aside. Two nurses rushed to the bed just as Sarah's body began to shake and contort. One of the nurses' ordered the other to go for a doctor but having heard the commotion while passing by; one had already entered the room.

Scared shitless didn't even come close to what Gideon was experiencing. He watched in horrified agony as Sarah writhed and twisted beneath the helping hands of the nurses and doctor. The doctor yelled out an order. One of the nurses' grabbed a vial and syringe. In a split second, she twisted off the sheath to the needle and plunged the tip into the vial and pulled back on the plunger until it was filled to the top.

"Hurry, Ellen," the doctor commanded in a strained sounding voice.

Sarah was still seizing when Irene and Sarah's father showed up. Irene gave a soft cry and clutched onto her husbands' arm, her terrified eyes glued to Sarah's bed. Gideon tasted the bitterness of salt on his lips. I'm crying he thought dispassionately. Why? This is only a dream, a nightmare. Soon I'll be waking up at an ungodly hour to help Sarah open up the Day Care.

"It's all right, folks," Gideon heard the doctor as if from a very long distance. "She's stabilized now, she's okay."

"What happened," Sarah's father asked.

A rough hand grabbed Gideon's shoulder, and a face was thrust close to his own, forcibly ripping him back from his stunned stupor. "What?"

"I asked you what happened to my daughter, what happened? You bastard! What the hell did you do to her? Answer me dammit!"

Irene was yelling now, but not at Gideon, "Stop! Robert! Stop! Let him go! He's in shock honey. He barely knows where he is."

Gideon was released so abruptly that he staggered back, knocking into the chair he had so recently vacated. Someone slipped an arm around his waist and helped him back to his seat. A cool hand swept his sweat-darkened hair from eyes. He really did look a mess, thought Irene. It was so un-like Gideon to be unshaven. The term slovenly came to mind. His beautifully tailored clothes were wrinkled and soiled with blood. Sarah's blood. Irene's lips quivered at the thought of Sarah bleeding and then Gideon grabbed her as if she were the only lifeline left. Clutching her, he burst into heart-wrenching wails; soaking her blouse with his tears. She stroked his head as he wept and the only thought running through her mind at that point was… Poor, poor, Gideon.

* * *

"You are certainly looking much improved, my son," commented Jareth's mother as she eyed him thoroughly. He surmised that she was pleased with what she saw if the half-smile on her face were of any indication.

Orlaith: Her name meant golden queen. It was as if her parents knew that she would one day be just that. His mother was not beautiful in the full sense of the word, but there was a striking stateliness about her – an aura so to speak – that drew attention to her as soon as she entered a room. She'd had this ability well before she became High Queen. It was a trait that was all her own, but her rise in status certainly enhanced her natural aptitude for garnering the high regard of others. In some circles, she was virtually worshipped. It was a state of affairs he knew she found distasteful, but his mother could play the diplomat when the situation warranted it. To stay in good standing with some of the more powerful families, she played along with their sycophantic ways.

"I am, mother. Your concern for my well-being is touching." The half-smile on Orlaith's face straightened out completely into the stern line with which Jareth was most familiar.

"I see that your illness as not damaged your insolence," she drawled, sarcasm dripping from each word, "A relief, to be sure."

"As always, I live to serve," was his mocking response.

Jareth wondered when she would move beyond the so-called pleasantries and just get to the point of her visit. It was true he was improving daily, but he was still continually plagued with sporadic, albeit debilitating headaches. He could feel one attempting to make itself known even now. Whether it was due to her visit or not, he did not know. He just wanted to hear her out and then show her the door. If he were going to be visited by another bone-crushing migraine, he wanted that particular visit to be anonymous to all but himself. His mother smoothed out the already immaculate skirt of her dress, fluffing the pin straight pleats with her bejeweled hand It was a sure sign she was nervous. Interesting, he thought, and unusual.

Finally, she casually asked, "The healers have been to see you?"

Jareth sighed, so they were going to play this game, were they? His mother would never admit it, but his love of games came directly from her; she was a master game player. He had learned from the best. Hers was a shrewd, discerning and calculating mind. When he was a boy, his mother had insisted he learn to play chess. Initially he had not wanted to learn, but under her tutelage he came to thoroughly enjoy the game. It was cutthroat and strategically charged. It also necessitated getting into your opponents head, and to know what their next move will be before even they do.

The entire Labyrinth had been engineered as a life-sized model of a chessboard. A rough one to be sure, but a chessboard had been the initial impetus. The Labyrinth had become a mind-bending puzzle that he and his mother had concocted together: the ultimate game. Oh, yes, he had learned from the master.

"Of course," was all Jareth offered by way explanation while relishing his mother's discomposure.

Shifting in her Elizabethan style chair, Orlaith was struggling to control her temper. Her son was taking great joy in her discomfort and taking no pains to hide it whatsoever. This sort of behavior from her son while irritating, only served to make her more determined.

"And…" she enquired through clenched teeth.

" _And_ ," he mimicked, "They can only say that it was an unknown illness. Origin also unknown."

Orlaith sat in silence for a moment before asking, "Will it return?"

"They do not know." Jareth stated with an indifference he was far from feeling.

"This is disturbing news. Has Giselle been informed?"

"I would assume so. Willum has been…"

"You would _assume_ so," his mother interrupted, incredulous that Jareth only assumed his wife knew of this important piece of news. "Do you not know for certain?"

Jareth rubbed his aching eyeballs with his forefinger and thumb. The throbbing at his temples and at the base of his head was becoming a persistent thrum.

"No mother," he bit out at her. "I cannot abide a woman who hovers. Therefore, my beloved wife has been banned from my chambers."

His sharp tone was intended to be a warning, a less than subtle nudge that she was perilously close to trespassing onto private territory. Orlaith took no notice of this, however, and barreled right along with about as much finesse as Nargle had while handling the Viennese hand-blown goblets; meaning, absolutely none.

"She is your _wife_ , Jareth. If anyone has the right to be by your side, it is Giselle."

By the gods, Jareth thought in disgust. Will this farce never end?

"The relationship between me and Giselle is of no concern to you," Jareth retaliated in exasperation. "I do not interrogate you on your relationship with father nor do I offer advice where none is asked. I would appreciate the same courtesy of you!"

Jareth had been rude. He knew it, his mother knew it and he was confident that very shortly his father would know it too. Jareth was well passed caring. Peace and quiet along with a painkilling draught were all he desired and now was as good a time as any to get it. To Jareth's mind, his mother and over-stayed her welcome.

Apparently his mother thought so too because she rose to her feet in a majestic manner. Looking down at him with cold anger blazing in her eyes and without another word, she glided across the floor with fluid grace. She exited his chambers with the soft rustle of her gown as the only evidence of her passing.

* * *

Sarah frantically struggled and fought her way to the surface of consciousness. Yet, for some reason, full awareness of her surroundings seemed just beyond her grasp. She was frightened and instinctively called for the one person all injured children reach for.

"Mom! Where you are you, mom?"

"Rest," a soft, melodious voice crooned back at her. "All is well, little one, all is well."

Sarah continued to stir restlessly in her drowsy state despite the assurance. Was that her mother, she wondered. Was her mother here, right now? If so, she didn't want to waste a single second by drifting back off to sleep.

"Mom," Sarah entreated weakly, "I need you. Don't go. Stay with me, please!"

"Your mother is not here, little one," the voice replied in a soothing manner. "But I am," the voice continued. "I am here, and I will not leave you."

"I want to go home," Sarah cried out. "Please," she begged through tears, "Take me home."

"All in good time," the voice assured, with a tinge of tender admonishment. "Soon… he will come for you. He will come, little Sarah. Now, sleep, dear one. Sleep."

Exhausted, Sarah allowed herself to be lulled, once more, into a land of dreams. A place where scattered remnants of half-remembered images danced behind her fluttering lids.

 

 

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah leaves the hospital and starts to have very strange dreams.

 

* * *

**  
**

**Chapter** **8**

**Dare To Heir**

"You're coming home with us and that's final!" Sarah's father, who was standing behind the chair in which Irene sat, nodded emphatically. Her father was usually Switzerland in all matters between Sarah and his wife, but not this time. He was in total agreement with her on this subject. His frown was stern, silently conveying to her that there was no escape. She was going to become their new roomie whether she liked it or not.

Irene patted Sarah's hand before saying, "Gideon has gone to fetch your things from the apartment. Speaking of which, why haven't you told us that he's been living with you?"

If it were possible for Sarah's complexion to become even paler than it already was, it would have. Gideon must have blabbed. Ever since the scene where he had cried on Irene's shoulder in this very hospital room, he'd been disgustingly and completely compliant to all of Irene's wishes. Every ounce of discord between the two seemed to have disappeared as if a whiff of smoke. It was really quite disconcerting.

Sarah had hoped that eventually the two would get over their mutual dislike of each other, but now, she wasn't so sure she was enjoying the outcome. Gideon was supposed to be her friend and ally, but his allegiance wasn't in her corner anymore. Sarah sighed deeply. Nope, Gideon was in Irene's corner now. Just what she needed, she thought glumly, two people bullying her into doing whatever her stepmother wanted her to do.

"Well," Sarah began, trying to sound nonchalant, "There really wasn't enough room for him and all of his clothes in that small space above the Day Care." Both Irene and her father chortled briefly at Sarah's small joke. Encouraged by their reaction, she continued, "He hasn't been living with me long, and it's been a great help only having to pay half the rent, so the messy bathroom is worth it." A horrible thought suddenly occurred to her. "Please, please," she begged, "Tell me that he isn't right now, at this moment, going through my underwear drawer."

"Certainly not!" Irene hurried to assure her sounding scandalized. It was nothing in comparison to the horror Sarah felt at the very idea of Gideon touching her unmentionables. "I'll be going back later after we've settled you in to get those sorts of items."

Sarah had to ask because she was curious as to what they would say. "Why aren't you surprised that I don't want Gideon touching my personals? I mean pretty much anyone else after discovering their daughter was living with a man would assume that he'd seen and touched them already, so why aren't you two?"

Sarah's father looked as if he'd swallowed an elephant whole. A tortured grimace settled on his face as he pulled at the collar of his shirt. This conversation was moving far too quickly into "don't ask, don't tell" territory as far as he was concerned. He started shuffling side-ways toward the door, hoping to escape before his delicate ears could be accosted further and he almost made it too. Almost.

Irene laughed. "Don't be ridiculous," she said sounding, as if, the whole idea was completely preposterous. At Sarah's confused expression, Irene leaned closer and whispered, "It's as plain as the nose on your face that there's absolutely nothing but friendship between the two of you."

"How can you know that?" Sarah just couldn't fathom why Irene sounded so confident, so set on the subject.

Patting her hand once more, Irene grinned before saying, "Chemistry or lack thereof in your case."

"You're kidding, right?" Sarah asked.

Now Irene was the one who looked confused. "Sarah, _are_ you sleeping with Gideon?"

Sarah blushed and stuttered, "No, but chemistry has nothing to do with it. I… I just don't feel that way for Gideon; he is my best friend after all."

Irene sat back with an exasperated sigh. "That has nothing to do with it! Your father's my best friend; he always has been, and I have sex with him all the time and..."

Sarah, desperately trying to not form a visual, lifted her hands and fluttered them in front of her face while squealing, "Please, stop, stop! I get it! I get it!"

Irene, secretly amused by Sarah's embarrassment, had known from the beginning that nothing sexual would ever happen between the two young people. Dear Gideon was doomed to disappointment on that score. Irene felt badly for Gideon, honestly she did. His romantic feelings for Sarah were totally and utterly unrequited. Even when she hadn't liked him all that much and had blamed him for keeping Sarah stranded here, she'd still felt sorry for him. That boy was headed for heartbreak.

Robert cleared his throat, looking thoroughly mortified, and fervently hoped that the chemistry lesson was over for the day. Thankfully, rescue came in the form of Gideon who strode into the room. His face broke out into a gigantic grin when he saw Sarah sitting up with some color finally in those cheeks of hers. If, he'd had any notion of what had put the rosy hue there, he might not have been grinning.

"How's my girl," he asked while kissing her forehead, and producing from behind his back, a beautiful bouquet of spring flowers. Sarah buried her nose into their fragrant depths thinking how wonderfully sweet he was. "I brought you some clothes to change into," he said while seating himself on the bed.

He handed Sarah a small plastic bag. In it was a pair of drawstring sweatpants and the T-shirt that he had gotten for her last Christmas that had the slogan, **I LIKE MY MEN HOW I LIKE MY COFFEE… HOT & SWEET** splashed across the front. There was also a white cotton camisole to wear underneath which she figured was in lieu of one of her bras. She raised confused eyes, wondering what in the world she was supposed to wear on her feet. What she saw made her laugh out loud. Dangling from Gideons' fingers were her white crocs.

"You're lucky I love you," he teased. "I wouldn't handle these monstrosities for just anyone you know."

With a huff, she grabbed them, stating in an offended voice, "There's no need to be nasty about it they're very com…"

"Yeah, yeah," he cut in with a wave of his hand, "Comfortable. I've heard it all before. Yadda, yadda, yadda. I wish, just once, you'd put your feet in my hands."

Rolling her eyes, Sarah flung the covers back and swung her feet over the edge of the hospital bed nearly kicking Gideon in the process. He scrambled away and then offered to help her to the bathroom. "I'm not an invalid," she proclaimed shortly.

"I'll help you change," Irene interrupted, saving Gideon from the wrath of Sarah. She could be quite bad tempered when feeling miserable. Supporting her under one elbow, Irene took small steps; surmising that they'd be easier for Sarah to manage in her present state. It took a few minutes, but they did make it to the bathroom door without mishap.

Once inside, Irene had Sarah out of the hospital gown and into her own clothes in record time. It felt wonderful to feel the coolness of familiar cotton clothing against her skin. The clean breeze scent of the fabric softener they used also went a long way toward lifting her mood. Sarah pulled her dark hair into its' habitual pony-tale and then slipped on her crocs. Now she felt ready to face the world. Sarah didn't need as much help walking back into the room, and when they re-entered it, the doctor was there explaining a few things to her father. He turned to include her in the conversation.

"This is a prescription for Ativan. It helps relieve anxiety and will help Sarah sleep if she's having trouble with that but more importantly it will prevent further seizures. We'll start out with the dosage we've been giving Sarah, and we'll have her come back in three months for blood work and to check on her progress. If we have to, we'll and tweak the dosage then if necessary. We'll also be performing another EEG. It's a good sign that your previous EEG came back normal, but sometimes seizure activity doesn't show up immediately. Seizure disorders aren't something to be taken lightly, and I'd like to try to rule out epilepsy, so to be certain we'll have to do at least two more EEG's within the next six months, okay?"

"But I've never had anything like this before. I don't understand why all of a sudden it just happened."

"Mr. Pierce here," the doctor motioned to Gideon with his pen, "said that you were burning up when he found you. The paramedics' notes concur. They stated that you had a fever that was in average of 104 degrees, and while you were here with us it elevated to 105 degrees. That's more than high enough to induce a febrile seizure." Placing the cap back on his pen, he slid it into his lab coat pocket before adding, "It's more than probable that's what caused the seizure and that it isn't epilepsy or some other neurological disorder at all. As I said earlier, we need to be sure, okay?"

Sarah nodded her head. "All right," she said quietly. "Do I have paperwork to sign, fill out or whatever?"

"The nurse will be here in a few minutes with the wheelchair. She can take you to where you'll be discharged, and you can take care of everything there. Any more questions?"

"Fine," he said when no one offered up any more queries. "Take care and please remember to make an appointment for that follow-up."

Her father held her jacket up, and Sarah thrust her arms in the sleeves. Irene scrunched the plastic bag in her hand tossing it toward the small wastepaper can in the corner. It struck its target with an accuracy that would have done a pro basketball player proud. Gideon cupped his hands over his mouth imitating a roaring crowd, which encouraged Irene to throw her arms in the air and jump up and down. She blushed scarlet when the nurse rolled the wheelchair in while she was in the midst of her victory dance.

"Ready?" She didn't bat an eye at Irene's antics.

"You have no idea how ready," Sarah assured her.

The nurse smiled, and Sarah took a moment to look at her nametag: Ellen Walldeburgh R.N. She looked to be in her mid-to-late twenties. She was friendly but not overly so, a professional through-and-through.

Being discharged was not the long drawn out painful production that Sarah was expecting it to be. She was certain she had Ellen to thank for one less head-ache. After Ellen had rolled her to the discharge line – which had several annoyed looking people ahead of her – Sarah saw her tap a woman on the shoulder. When the woman turned, Sarah noted that she was tall with a thin, angular face, and astonishingly enough, square-framed glasses hung from firmly pursed lips.

After a brief whispered conversation with the tall woman, Ellen gave them a quick wave of her hand before turning left into the opposite corridor and disappeared from sight. Seconds later, the woman caught Sarah's eye and with a discreet tilt of her head motioned for Sarah move to the other side of the reception desk.

Sarah nudged her father in the hip with her elbow; he looked down at her with a frown. He didn't appear to be all that happy about having to wait either. She motioned him to her level and explained the situation. Her dad, in turn, sent Gideon and her stepmother to get the car telling them they'd be out momentarily. Bemused, but willing, they went. After all, was it really necessary for them all to stand around waiting while Sarah got discharged?

* * *

Irene watched Sarah as she inspected the room that had been hers in childhood. She'd been surprised when Sarah had come to her with the sudden urge to completely change her room. In a way, it had been a relief. At fifteen, Irene was of the opinion that Sarah was far too immersed in her imaginary world. Still, she had never dreamed that those changes would include getting rid of all Sarah's furniture, stuffed animals, toys, books and even her bedding; anything deemed childish by the teen-ager, were ditched. Unbeknownst to Sarah, Irene secretly rescued a few once cherished items from the garbage bin. Who knew, maybe someday Sarah would come to regret her rash decision and Irene would be able to present her with what she had salvaged.

The turnaround had confused her father as well, but Irene had told him that Sarah had finally reached the age where the whimsical fantasies of childhood were no longer exciting. Boys, clothes, and friends were now going to take center stage. The whole boys comment had made Robert frown, but he was quickly mollified when he witnessed how much the change had improved his wife and Sarah's relationship. They'd gone shopping for hours on end, returning exhausted but smiling. They had even helped Sarah paint the walls and ceilings. It had been a messy experience but also a bonding one. The redecorating of Sarah's room had in effect made them a family.

* * *

Sarah couldn't sleep. With her fist, she pounded her pillow into what she hoped would be a more comfortable spot. Turning on her side, she placed her head into the depression. She groaned. Nope, that wasn't going to do it. She was still uncomfortable. After a few more frustrating minutes of tossing and turning, she decided to get up. Anything was better than just lying there.

She had taken her evening meds so how come she couldn't sleep? Hadn't the doc said it would help her sleep? Yet here she was awake as could be. For a moment, she considered taking a second dose of Ativan, but dismissed that idea quickly as stupid and dangerous. Warm milk might be the ticket, but she decided against that too. She doubted her father had any brandy hanging around, and warm milk was totally gross without it.

She drifted across the room to where a bentwood rocker sat by itself in a corner. To Sarah, it looked lost and forlorn. She decided what it needed was to be used, to have someone sit in it once more. Just thinking about rocking back-and-forth in its' comforting hollow was making her sleepy. Sarah ran her hands up and down the smooth arms of the chair, loving the feel of the wood beneath her palms. Then, she began a slow steady rock.

Sarah was dreaming, and it was lovely. In her dream, the room became bathed in a soft silvery sheen of light. Its source was an unknown element, but it didn't matter from where it was originating. Nothing mattered, not a thing, except for this beautiful, otherworldly light. A moment later, a soft spring breeze stirred the delicate, sheer curtains causing shadows of all shapes and sizes to dance across the walls and ceiling. Sarah sat mesmerized. Almost immediately, those shadows began to take shape. Sarah's face screwed up into a mask of confusion. Although bewitching, something seemed not quite right. She tried moving her head in an attempt to loosen the cobwebs from her vision. She _needed_ to see, to put all the pieces together. Yet, the harder she concentrated on it, the more difficult and confusing it all became.

"Relax," whispered a voice. "Relax and let it happen."

Sarah did as the voice requested, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Not long after, swirls of color began forming into various shapes and sizes. Then, those shapes of colors started an undulating dance; twirling, faster, and faster. Sarah's breathing became erratic, and she knew, just knew that something momentous was going to happen; a life-changing event she was helpless to avoid. The odd thing was she wasn't afraid; she welcomed it.

"Excellent, Sarah. Very good, indeed." Sarah smiled at the approval she heard coming from the voice. "He will bring you the book. When he does, take it willingly. You must be willing. You must want to come home."

"I _am_ home," Sarah mumbled. Sarah could feel the angry disappointment in the air. Her outburst had seriously displeased her mystery visitor.

"It's a lie, Sarah," the voice hissed angrily. "All you know or have known in that world is a _l_ _ie_."

"No," Sarah demurred stubbornly. " _This_ is my home."

"You silly, child," the voice rebuked her affectionately. " _Home_ is where _we_ are. Come back to us. Come back!"

"I can't," she whispered, agony clawing at her heart.

Ignoring her denial, the voice seductively promised, "He will give you _everything_ , Sarah! Everything you have ever wanted! All of your dreams! Love him Sarah and he will be your slave."

"My slave," she questioned, awed by the thought of such a thing.

Sounding ecstatic at her reaction, the voice proclaimed, "Yes, little one; your slave and so much more! He offered it before, and he will willingly offer it again. Take the book Sarah, the book… the book… the book…"

Sarah woke with a start, gasping out the words that still echoed in her mind. "The book…"

 

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jareth listens to the woes of his subjects, while Raedeltf makes his first bid to gain control of his nephews kingdom.
> 
> The book makes its way to Sarah.

 

**Dare To Heir**

**Chapter** **9**

Another agonized wail reverberated through the castle reaching Jareths' ears. The continuous screeching was shredding his already raw nerves. His head, which had begun a steady ache soon after breakfast, wasn't fairing much better. Each and every movement, no matter how slight, caused a stabbing pain between his eyes which quickly radiated to his temples and finished its' painful journey by traveling down the back of his head. From the neck up, he was nothing but a mass of throbbing flesh.

At the first pang, he'd considered summoning Gavin, but that notion was quickly turned aside. Jareth knew that the summons would inevitably reach the ears of his mother. In turn; reaching Giselle. What he did not need was the two of them joining forces against him any more than they already had. Thick as thieves were those two!

His blasted mother had chosen to stay behind when his father had returned to High Court. It was an annoyance Jareth could have well done without, but there had been no diplomatic way in which to "encourage" her to accompany his father. To make matters worse, his uncle had managed to make his stay an open-ended visit. Veiled hints from his mother on Raedelft's impending departure were expertly turned aside.

His uncle had joined him for his morning meal whilst his mother and wife had a lie-in. Personally, Jareth was of the opinion that the sadistic Raedeltf had taken secret joy in witnessing his tumble from his chair. He wouldn't put it passed the sick bastard to linger here in the hopes of witnessing a relapse.

Jareth had felt fine when roused from his bed by a disgustingly cheerful Nargle, just as he had for the past several mornings. He would even go so far as to say he was feeling vigorously refreshed. He'd been relieved when the fire in the grate had sprung forth immediately upon his command. Its' blaze had been a comforting sight to be sure.

Jareth had told no one of the previous incident and had put his difficulty of starting the fire down to exhaustion. Still, it was magic at its most basic and simplistic. A mere child had the capability to magic a small fire into existence. Jareth did not let his mind dwell on such things for they were unimportant. Since there had been no further problems the subject was, therefore, relegated to back of his mind where he intended for it to stay.

He was now been listlessly listening to two of the villagers squabble over a _turnip_ of all things. Normally Jareth would be highly amused by such an idiotic dispute, but the aching in his head made enjoying the ridiculous spectacle between the two men a impossibility Another utterly pointless twenty minutes had gone by before Jareth had finally had enough of their absurd, abject silliness. He decreed that they would share the turnip by cutting it into two parts.

This decision had momentarily quieted the men, who then, stared at the king as if to say: Share it?! By the looks of things, they had not liked his solution. One man opened his mouth to protest, but when Jareth, who had been leaning his head on a closed fist, sat forward and growled, "Any objections?" The man could see that any objections made would not be welcome, and so he wisely said nothing.

Nargle had then been sent to fetch a knife from the kitchen. Once the turnip had been halved, the men were then sent on their way with their divided booty muttering all the while on the unfairness of it all. Jareth, too tired to react to their impertinent grumblings, chose to ignore the men as they argued over whom they thought had gotten the largest half.

"Willum, how many more of these inane audiences will I have to suffer," Jareth asked wearily.

Without invitation Raedeltf interjected, "Alas nephew, 'tis the burden of all fine kings to hear out the petty issues of their subjects. If it is so tiring for you, perhaps I can relieve you of this horrid duty."

Willum gave the kings' uncle a dumbfounded look. He was well aware that given the opportunity Raedeltf would seize power for himself, but even Willum would never have surmised that he would be so blatant in his bid. Willum knew that Jareth was not presently at his best, but he was far from in need of being replaced!

Jareth glowered at his uncle, but his reply was as smooth as cream, "How generous of you, but I could not in good conscience ask a _guest_ ," Jareth put slight emphasis on the word, "to take on such menial endeavors."

Well done, Willum thought. That should put an end to Raedeltf's meddling. Just as Willum had prophesized, Raedeltf acquisitioned with just as much finesse as Jareth had in his refusal of his uncles' suggestion.

"Of course nephew, you are _all_ thoughtfulness. I merely wished to be of service to King of the Goblins in whatever manner and capacity possible."

Just then another wail split the air. Jareth winced as another arrow of pain struck its' mark. "How can I be expected to concentrate with all that infernal caterwauling," the king asked in exasperation. "That beastly woman has been skinning that animal all damn day!" Jumping to his feet the king bellowed, "NARGLE!"

"I'm a cumin' you're lordshipness. I'm a cumin'." Nargle skidded to halt, knife still in hand from when he had sliced the turnip.

Jareth paced back and forth, hands clasped at the base of his spine and demanded, "Tell me, Nargle is the cook planning on torturing that creature for the rest of the day, or can we perhaps look forward to venerating silence in the proximate future?"

Nargle scratched behind one unwashed ear looking confused before saying, "That ain't the cook your worshipfulness. Marta, she be at ta markeet.

Jareth glared down at the hapless goblin before biting out waspishly, "Then pray tell, what is that obscenity?"

The goblin grinned, clearly excited. "Oh, that be missy Bebbin. She be practicin'."

"What she be practicin'," Jareth asked, mocking Nargle's atrocious accent. "The Banshee Bop?"

Nargle waved his stubby arms in front of the king before exclaiming in a loud whisper, "Oh, no your lordshipness, missy Bebbin be singin' a new song wichtin' she be hopin' to please youse with"

Jareth snorted and rubbed a hand across his face. Then, looking and feeling more pained than when he had been at his most ill, he said, "I assure you Nargle, missy Bebbin's new song is far from pleasing. Run along and ask missy Bebbin to cease in her attempts at pleasing me. An entire band of tone deaf, barely articulate, sonorously impaired goblins would be more pleasing than her vain attempts at becoming remotely close to carrying a tune."

Nargle's face fell. He had a particular fondness for missy Bebbin. She was kind to Nargle, stoppin' to speaks to him when the other missies stuck them noses in the air pretendin' Nargle was nuthin'.  
Willum chuckled quietly at Nargles' downtrodden expression. He quickly turned it into a cough after Jareth threw a look his way that could have withered a ripened grape on the vine.

Clearly, the king was far from being amused. He is in pain again Willum accurately surmised. Something must be done. Now that the High Kings' brother was setting up residence in the castle, it would be dangerous for Jareth to be weakened by illness. Even the appearance of weakness had the potential to throw Jareths' rulership into jeopardy.

"My lord, I, myself, would welcome a break in the proceedings," Jareths' advisor admitted, "I beg the king's indulgence."

After a slight hesitation on his part, Jareth nodded his head in agreement. He was well aware of what Willum had done, and his was gratefulness toward his advisor was boundless. Willum informed the remaining townspeople that the king had declared a brief recess. The crowd dispersed quickly, many choosing to walk to the various wells spread out in the courtyard, so as to partake of a drink of the cool, sweet waters below. Jareth had the wells built years ago after an old, frail woman had keeled over from dehydration while waiting for her turn to address the king. One could not have ones' people passing out during their opportunity to discuss issues close to their hearts.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jareth could see his uncle wave away the goblet of water being offered to him by one of the less homely goblins. Those were the goblins that Jareth kept about to serve his guests. From past, unfortunate experiences Jareth came to the understanding that the ladies of the court, as well as some of the gentlemen, were unaccustomed to having their needs attended to by such creatures.

Therefore, he sent the more human-like goblins to minister to his guests' whims and foibles. It was obvious by the manner in which his uncle curled his lip up into a sneer that he held the goblins in Jareths' care with unmistakable contempt. It infuriated Jareth. The blasted man had no right to treat the beasts poorly; that was _his_ job.

"Here, my lord." It was Willum with a goblet. Jareth sniffed at the contents. "No need to worry, it's only water. I do not think wine would be a good idea with how you are feeling, am I correct?"

Without answering, Jareth took a large swallow and then grimaced at the bitter aftertaste. Willum had not been totally honest with his king. He had slipped a pain relieving draught into the beverage. Immediately, Jareth could distinguish a lessening in the level of pain. Even so, he glared at Willum, angry that his advisor would do such a thing. Willum did not look in the least repentant at his subterfuge. If Willum had not had Jareth's total confidence and trust he would have been dragged to the oubliette; thrown in, and left to rot for an unspecified length of time. One did not tamper with a kings' food or drink, to do so was tantamount to treason.

"I have summoned the healer to your personal quarters, my lord." At Jareths' thunderous expression, Willum hurried to reassure him. "I was extremely discreet, your majesty. No one will learn of his presence."

Jareth, still peeved, left Willum standing alone but not before finishing the contents of the goblet. He set it down with enough force to elicit a clunk as it struck the surface of the circular table. Willum watched with concern as Jareth stormed away.

* * *

Sarah stared at the reflection in the mirror. She turned her head this way and that and was pleased to see that the bruising around her eyes had mellowed into sporadically placed dingy, yellow markings. The raw spot on her nose and chin had turned into rather unattractively raised scabs that had begun to peel leaving pinkish-white skin behind. She looked ridiculous, but there was nothing she could do about it.

She took small comfort in the fact that she would be able to at least cover up her knees with jeans. Taking her brush in hand, she began a slow steady pull through her mass of dark, tangled hair. It was soothing and brought memories back of when her mother used to sit on her bed doing this exact same thing. The firm steady strokes had a lulling effect on her mind causing a sublime state of relaxation. Sighing, Sarah dropped the brush on the counter by the sink and returned to her room.

Plopping down on her bed she reached back, grabbed one of her deep purple throw pillows, and clutched it to her chest. Resting her chin on one of the edges, she turned her thoughts to the dream she'd had the other night. She'd woken in the rocking chair, no surprise there. She remembered with perfect clarity sitting in it, but it had been what had followed that had disturbed her. After waking, she had begun to cry. What had made it worse was the enormous sense of loss that had filled every fiber of her being. It had been agonizing in its intensity.

She remembered quite clearly something about a book. Although, she had no idea what it meant. She knew it was significant, would change her life, in fact. Beyond that certainty, she wasn't sure of much else except that _he_ would bring the book to her. Who was he? Again, she was at a loss. With a frustrated growl, she fell back, bouncing slightly as she struck the mattress. She was losing her mind, yeah that was it.

"Sarah," Irene's voice called from downstairs, "Breakfast."

She wasn't very hungry but yelled back. "'Kay, I'm coming."

Irene was bustling about the kitchen juggling two plates. One was filled with scrambled eggs and toast and the other with sausage and waffles. Toby was sitting at the table eating with gusto a bowl of oatmeal liberally sprinkled with brown sugar. Sarah grinned. Irene sure was a brave woman. Giving raw sugar to a kid was an unfailing way of getting him to bounce off the walls for hours on end.

"Here you go," Irene said placing both plates on the table.

"I hope only one of those is for me." Sarah doubted she could eat one entire plateful let alone two.

Irene tsked. "Of course not, but it wouldn't be a bad idea for you to eat more," she stated firmly while giving Sarah's cup of coffee. "You are going to have more than just coffee, right?"

Stirring in three teaspoons of sugar into the piping hot liquid, Sarah replied tiredly, "Yes, Irene."

Taking a cautionary sip of the hot brew, Sarah nodded in approval. It was perfect. Coffee, Sarah was convinced, was the nectar of the gods and without it she was an absolute monster to be around. Irene had learned that lesson the first morning. Sarah had drug her still sleep-addled brain to the table where much to her irate dismay absolutely no coffee could be found.

Irene, generally unshakable, had been quite rattled when Sarah demanded in a deep, gruff voice, "Where the hell's the coffee?"

Toby's spoon had stopped mid-way to his mouth. Her father's paper crackled sharply as he whipped it away from his face. Irene was stunned into silence at the language Sarah had just used in the presence of her younger brother.

Irene had made the mistake of saying, "What?"

Through a nasty glare, Sarah asked again, firmly and concisely, "Where. Is. The. Coffee?" She enunciated each syllable with a forceful pounding of her fist on the table.

"Uh," her father answered hesitantly, "We generally have juice, milk or tea."

Sarah had looked at them as if they'd had two heads, and shoved her chair back, stomping out of the room just like she used to do when she was an angst-ridden teenager. The next morning, coffee was discreetly added to the Williams' breakfast menu.

Sarah pulled the plate of food toward her. She'd chosen the one filled with eggs. They were scrambled hard, just how she liked them. She began to eat them under Irene's watchful eye. They melted in her mouth upon contact.

Toby, his breakfast completed, had run off to his room. He was going to go outside to play with the neighbor boy. Toby had proudly announced at supper the night before that Brad Youngston was his new best friend, and he'd been invited over to try out new baseball and glove. Toby rushed into the kitchen carrying a shoebox.

Curious Sarah asked, "What you got there, Tobe?"

Toby slipped the lid off showing Sarah the contents of the box. "They're my trading cards," he answered. "Me and Brad have tons of them, and his older brother goes through them with us too. He tells us stories about the players. It's loads of fun."

Sarah ruffled his hair affectionately, "You have a good time, bud."

Replacing the lid, Toby looked down at his sneakers, before saying in a whisper, "I heard you crying again last night. Are you homesick?"

Sarah stilled in her chair. Leave it to Toby to put the correct name to it. She _was_ homesick, dreadfully so. She couldn't get back to her own apartment fast enough. Maybe then, this gaping hole in her middle would disappear.

Toby sighed before continuing, and what he said caused a cold chill to race through her body, "I miss it sometimes too, but if I went back I would miss mom and dad too much. He wasn't really scary, and the goblins were fun."

Sarah's heart began to beat out an unsteady tattoo, pounding so fast and hard that she instinctively pushed her hand against her chest, certain that she would need it to keep her heart in place. "What did you say," she asked, her voice ragged.

Toby looked toward the kitchen door, to make sure that Irene wasn't about to barge in on them. At least, that's what Sarah thought he might be doing.

"You know!" His tone was insistent and intense. "The king, and the castle! You came for me. Remember?"

"That was a story, Tobe. I made it up," Sarah corrected him. She wanted to stand, to run away but didn't think her legs would carry her far enough away from this troubling conversation.

"You did _not_ ," he stated emphatically with a hurt expression crossing his tiny features. "You went through that maze thingy. He watched you with one of his clear balls. He sang to me," he continued, ignoring Sarah's stricken expression. "He wanted us to stay but you wouldn't."

Sarah dropped her spinning head onto her hand. This was not happening!

Toby thrust out his bottom lip which worried Sarah because it meant a tantrum was brewing. "I can prove it."

He ran from the kitchen as if the hounds of hell were chasing him. Maybe they were; her mind mocked her quietly. He was, after all, talking about goblins and silly things that couldn't possibly exist. Oh Tobe, she thought in exasperation. How was she supposed to break it to him? Irene would kill her if she found out. Her stepmother was the no-nonsense type and would not appreciate it if Sarah influenced Toby with fairy-tales and fantastic make believe worlds.

A few minutes later, Toby returned, pushing the kitchen door open with unnecessary force. He was so mad at Sarah that he didn't care if he left a mark on the wall, didn't care if mom spanked him. He thrust out the object he held and waved it under Sarah's nose.

Sarah's mouth fell open. She was speechless. It was a red book, _her_ red book. In the back of her mind, she heard once more the whispered words from her dream. " _He_ _will_ _bring_ _to_ _you_ _the_ _book_ _,_ _but_ _you_ _must_ _take_ _it_ _willingly_." God, this is not happening! This is not happening!

"Take it," Toby demanded.

Which Sarah did, although she was horribly frightened. The moment she touched its' crimson cover garbled images assaulted her, sending her reeling back in shock. A maze of stone appeared and funny-looking creatures who Sarah recognized as long-forgotten friends. A snowy white owl and goblins galore; they were everywhere. Then, in her minds' eye, she saw _him_ as clearly as if he were standing right in front of her. He stood there in all his splendid and outrageous arrogant glory. The Goblin King!

"Told ya," her brother stated triumphantly. Having got his point across, Toby picked up the shoebox he had placed on the table and exited through the back kitchen door.

With hands that shook uncontrollably, Sarah lay the book down and not for the first time that day thought, this is not happening! It was a lie she was using to comfort herself and Sarah knew it.

* * *

 

 

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Finally_ , Sarah and Jareth reunite!
> 
> Sarah returns to work at the Day Care Center.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you thought it was never going to happen. Here we are ten chapters in and to both of their surprise (and yours too considering how long it took to finally get here) Jareth and Sarah are brought together once again. Enjoy!

 

* * *

**  
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**Dare to Heir**

Chapter 10

"I'm fine!" Sarah stated emphatically while giving Gideon her version of the evil eye. It wasn't nearly as effective or as scary as Irene's but it was passable. "The doctor said I could go back to work, so stand back and let me!"

Holding his hands up in a gesture of defeat, Gideon inhaled sharply and exhaled deeply. "Fine," he huffed, clearly put out. "I was only thinking about you."

Standing up, Sarah placed her hands on her slim hips and said, "I know, Gideon and its sweet of you to be concerned." _But get over it already_ , she added to herself. "I'm tired of sitting round this place. I need to feel useful." _Not to mention that I need something else for my brain to focus on other than that damn book!_

Running her hand through her hair which had yet to be pulled back into its characteristic pony-tail, she sighed again. It was a combination of a tired and exasperated sigh and spoke volumes of how harassed she had been since, once again, having the book in her possession.

"You're not going to wear those hideous shoes, are you?"

Sarah clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Of course I am." Grabbing an elastic band she grasped her swath of dark hair and in a few well-honed twists wrapped it up at the crown of her head. Why he continued to harp on about her shoes was a mystery. So, they weren't the most attractive and anything less than stylish was an offence to his eye, but really; was that any reason to go on and on about it? "Other than the obvious, what do you have against my crocs?"

He grimaced. "Where do you want me to start?" Gideon watched in distaste as she used the wall for balance as she slid first one foot and then the other into a pair of the atrocities of an equally heinous lime green. "Is it _absolutely_ necessary to have a plethora of them in every color imaginable?"

"You really are a snob, you know that Gideon?"

She knew she sounded bad tempered, but damn it! She hadn't been resting well, not even with the medication the doctor had prescribed. Vivid dreams haunted her the minute she put her head on the pillow. Mostly they were fragments, pieces that had no sense and were seemingly random in order. She'd wake coated in a sheen of sweat gasping and clutching at her blankets.

She dreamt often of the Goblin King. Those dreams were far more clear than the other hodge-podge glimpses she'd had when she'd dreamt of things other than him. In several of them he had laughed at her. This had been especially infuriating. In a few he'd kicked and screamed at squat, unattractive creatures. The poor things were terrified of him, and shook and trembled whenever he was near. Yet, even at his most abhorrent, and there had been several instances of this, Sarah couldn't deny his unnatural beauty.

"Having fashion sense automatically makes me a snob?" Gideon asked, effectively interrupting her internal musings. "I find _that_ snobbishness of the highest order!"

She ignored his comment, and entered the bathroom where she began "putting on her face" as Gideon called it, although he had to confess it generally took her less than ten minutes. An anomaly considering the majority of the women of his acquaintance took a half an hour, more or less. Let's not even go into how long it took once styling of the hair came into the equation.

Leaning against the door jam, he remarked in a casual manner, "You know if Irene knew about this she'd race home from the park."

Gideon's threat wasn't an empty one and while it failed to have her shaking in her crocs, it did manage to piss her off. This had to stop!

"You two sure have become tight." Excruciatingly so. "What about all those disagreements, those less than amiable feelings? Huh? I really miss those days." And she did too. Her life might have been a tad more complicated when he and Irene weren't getting along, but at least it had still been _her_ life.

"Irene," Gideon ignored her snort at the use of her step-mother's first name. "And I have bonded over a mutual mission." At her confused look, he continued, "Keeping you alive and well."

"For your information, and you can pass this along to Irene, I am perfectly fine. Even the doctor agrees, and he's a professional and that should suit both you and your new best buddy."

Gideon shoved his hands into the pockets of his designer jeans. He forced his voice to remain neutral, before continuing, "Yes, well, Irene and I aren't so certain. We were thinking that you could continue to stay here, you know, just in case you need her or your dad."

"You two are unbelievable!" Sarah advanced on him. Taken by surprise he backpedaled in his hand-made leather loafers. "I am moving back to my home today." Poking a finger in his chest, she inquired tartly, "Is that understood, oh friend of mine?"

Gideon was used to Sarah being forceful, but the genuine wrath on her face was new, and a bit alarming.

"Fine," he conceded, reluctant to give into her wishes. "But, _you're_ going to tell Irene."

"No problem," Sarah agreed with a brisk nod of her head. Pushing him aside, she reached for her keys. "I've already packed," she informed him while sending him a winning smile over her shoulder.

Gideon shook his head in bewildered wonderment while following her out to the car. She'd already pushed the passenger door open from the inside. "Thanks," he muttered crossly, climbing in beside her.

"If you're going to sulk," she retorted while buckling her seatbelt, "you can get out now. I'm going to be dealing with children all day – some of which – will no doubt be bad-tempered. I don't need one more added to the mix."

Ouch, he thought ruefully. Sarah could be really nasty when she put her mind to it. "I do _not_ sulk!" He stringently denied, following his words with a petulant pout.

Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, Sarah held back a giggle. He really was a piece of work, but he was her friend and by default that made him her piece of work. She was touched by his concern, but it was misplaced. Of course, you couldn't tell _him_ that. He was as clucky as a nervous hen, and it didn't help matters that Irene encouraged him in all of his nerve-racking over protectiveness.

"Listen," she began again, this time less snippy, "it's no big deal." She started the car and pulled away from the curb. After they turned off of the street, she accelerated. When he didn't answer, she sighed.

Her window slid down with one press of the button on the side of her door. She thought about hitting the one that would lower the passenger window, but settled for the back two instead. Gideon had never been too keen on getting his hair mussed up. "Giving me the silent treatment, now?"

"No," he sniffed, after a brief hesitation. "But, Irene's going to have my guts for garters." He sounded so miserable at the prospect of incurring Irene's wrath that Sarah threw her head back and laughed.

It was good to hear her laugh again, Gideon decided. She was beautiful when she laughed, especially right now, in this moment, with her hair whipping like a dark banner around her face. His hand itched to pull the loose strands back from her eyes, eyes which were lit by the sun. Who in their right mind could stay angry at Sarah when her face was flushed with rosy color and her mouth was curved into a teasing smile? Certainly not him, that was for sure.

Other than the low sounds of music coming from the radio, they traveled the rest of the way in relative silence. It was one of the things that Sarah loved about Gideon. He didn't feel the need to fill the gaps with nonsensical chatter. Theirs was a comfortable silence built on years of friendship, a true meeting of the minds. There was no need to impress, flatter, or any of those silly things. They accepted each other.

"Finally," Sarah said as she stepped out of the car and onto the pavement. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she gazed with pride up at the sign above the door. This was her place, her business, and she loved every minute of it. Loved working with Gideon, loved the kids, and loved the feeling she got every time she held one of those tiny little people in her arms. "I have missed this!"

"As you can see, the place hasn't fallen to ruin without you." Gideon reached into the back of the car pulling out a large box, grunting under its weight. "What do you have in here?"

"Coloring books, crayons, paints, sketch pads, play dough…"

"…bricks, rocks, mortar," Gideon quipped.

"…easels, books, board games," Sarah continued as if he hadn't interrupted. "I noticed we were running low, and decided to pick up reinforcements."

Gideon shifted the box from one thigh and then to the other as he watched Sarah rifle through her purse. Her brows furrowed in frustration as she opened interior zippers, and then search again the pockets she'd already searched.

"Mine are in my coat, take those," offered Gideon.

Giving up on her purse altogether, she delved into his coat and fished around until her fingers closed over his keys. She chose the correct key amongst the others, and pushed it into the lock and turned until she heard the distinctive click of the bolt sliding free.

"Don't look at me!" Gideon exclaimed when she eyed him with suspicion. "I didn't take your keys. And just remember, Irene loves you."

"Swiping the keys from my purse is overkill, don't you think." Sarah admonished lightly while holding the door open so that Gideon could sidle through with his burden. "I can't believe Irene actually thought that would stop me from coming back to work."

Gideon knew better than to tell Sarah just how far Irene had gone to ensure Sarah's well-being. If Sarah ever found out that her stepmother had contacted the doctor in the hopes of having him suggest to Sarah that she should indefinitely delay her return to work, she'd totally blow a gasket!

She pushed the door inward, and then propped it open with a doorstop shaped like one of the seven dwarfs. Gideon moved forward with his burden and dropped the box on one of the plastic kiddie tables.

"Careful," Sarah exclaimed, concerned that the table wouldn't hold up under the box's weight.

Rubbing his lower back, Gideon ruefully replied, "Your lack of concern for my muscles and joints is touching. Relax about the tables. They might not look like much, but these fellas could withstand the poundage of an elephant."

At Sarah's disbelieving look, he continued while slapping his hand on the surface of one such table, "I have the assurance from the manufacturer that these babies can withstand the destructive tendencies of even the worst kid."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Sarah asked with an amused twitch to her lips, "You're comparing a few rowdy youngsters to elephants?"

"Well," he blithely replied, "if the trunk fits."

"You're as crazy as they come. Now, let's get moving; the kids will be here soon."

With a crisp salute, Gideon stated, "Aye, aye captain!"

They began pulling items from the box. Gideon was amazed at how much she had managed to purchase in such a short span of time.

"How, in the world, did you manage to slip away long enough to buy all of this stuff? Irene's done everything but hire a professional babysitter or place a detective on your trail! So, give over, how'd you do it?"

"Oh, I have my ways," was her cryptic reply.

Sarah was setting up a toddler-sized easel, and Gideon was placing Scooby-Doo coloring books on a shelf when the door opened admitting Jesse and James. They squealed when they saw Sarah, and ran to throw their arms around her legs.

"Whoa there, tigers," Gideon gently admonished them before attempting to pry their arms off of Sarah who was having problems keeping her balance due to their exuberance and constricting embrace.

Reluctantly they released her and then gave a shout when they saw the new toys scattered throughout the room. Gideon grinned when they beat a fast pace to the cardboard cans of newly opened play dough.

"My goodness, you're back, and how wonderful you look too!" Sarah was enveloped in a tight hug by Gillian and Gabe's aunt.

Drawing back, Sarah answered brightly, "Thank-you, Clara. It's good to be back. Come here, my darling boy." Sarah cooed, while taking an eager looking Gabe from Clara. Cradling him to her chest, Sarah reached out and brushed a curl off of the forehead of his sister. "And, hello to you too, my pretty girl."

Gillian began to wave her chubby little arms at Sarah, motioning for her to be taken from her aunt as well.

"They've both missed you." Clara proclaimed, while juggling Gillian on her hip.

"What is this?" Gideon demanded with a light laugh. "I wasn't a good enough replacement?"

"If I hadn't come to your rescue, Gideon Pierce, you'd still be walking around this place lost and confused," Clara shot back at him with a grin.

Rescue?What did Clara mean?

"Now don't be getting uppity just because you donated a few lousy hours here and there." Gideon cheerfully returned before going to greet Mrs. Mason-Harding who was looking harassed, and dragging a little girl in each hand.

Placing Gabe in one of the cribs, Sarah grasped Gillian under her arms and pulled her close. "Thanks for helping out, Clara. I had no idea."

"No need to look so guilty, Sarah. You were sick, and Gideon was frazzled out of his mind here without you." Shrugging, she added, "Besides, I'm between jobs at the moment, and it was fun."

" _Now_ , you _are_ being generous! I know exactly how Gideon runs things when I'm away. Why do you think I haven't taken a vacation in years?"

"No, really," was Clara's earnest rejoinder, "He was fabulous. He's incredible with the kids, isn't he?"

Sarah glanced over to where Gideon was thumb-wrestling with Millie. "That's because they're on the same wavelength," Sarah muttered wryly.

**XXXXXX**

Jareth appeared not in a house as was usually the case but in a room littered with several pint-sized tables, chairs, chalkboards and massive amounts of multi-colored hand prints on various shades of cardboard. Some sort of playroom Jareth surmised. A small gasp caught Jareths' attention. A young boy possibly four or five stared at him with his mouth hanging open. _Was this the child he was to take or the one who had done the wishing away?_ Either option was odd to Jareths' mind.

Generally the wished away child was younger, more infant than toddler. By the time were toddlers they've passed the annoying crying all the time stage that humans find particularly dreadful in babies. While the wisher, on the other hand, was usually much older. Certainly there had been cases where some had been barely ten years of age. But, in comparison to this little one, ten years of age seemed ancient.

Jareth strode toward the frightened child as non-threatening as possible. Lowering himself to the youngster's level he asked in what he hoped was a soothing voice, "Well what have we here, little man?"

Staring steadily into Jareths eyes the lad leaned in and whispered, "You're you."

Jareth laughed. "That I am, little man, that I am. Now", Jareth continued in a voice whisper soft while playfully tapping the boy on the chest, "who might you be?"

The boy giggled, swatting at Jareth's fingers.

Pointing to himself with a moist thumb he stated simply, "Jesse."

"Well, young Jesse it's a pleasure to meet you. Do you know how to shake hands?"

Jesse's cobalt blue eyes registered confusion. He popped his thumb between his pink lips while shaking his sandy-brown, curly-haired head and mumbled a barely coherent, "Nuh uh."

Jareth, not well versed in baby language, took that to mean "no."

"It's not that difficult really," Jareth patiently explained. "Hold out your hand like this."

Jareth demonstrated. Jesse followed suit. Jareth beamed while taking Jesse's minute fingers into own, giving them two gentle but firm shakes up and down. Sensing Jareth's approval, Jesse's own face broke into a wide grin. Jareth was enchanted. What a lovely little chap, he thought. Reaching out, Jareth ruffled the little boy's hair.

Jesse simply popped his thumb between his pink lips and began to suck in earnest. Jareth was once again struck by the oddity of the situation and was just about to pick the boy up when a scream nearly had him springing out of his boots. Jumping to his feet at record speed, Jareth spun around while materializing a crystal orb out of thin air.

**XXXXXX**

_It isn't possible_ , was Sarah's first thought. One minute she'd been heading back from a short trip to the bathroom - nap time was a good time as any to take bathroom break – only to discover that Jesse had left the nap area while she'd been gone. Searching for him was no big deal. The place wasn't _that_ huge, after all. She rubbed her eyes to clear her obviously faulty vision but when she looked again he was still there, big as life: Jareth the Goblin King!

Jareth relaxed his battle stance, and though he might not have appeared to be, he was equally as stunned. He was just able to hide it better. Years of sitting through court dinners went a long way into fine tuning the best avenues in which to disguise a vast array of emotions. And, at this moment, he was more than grateful for that training. The last thing he wanted was for Sarah to know just how affected _he_ was by this strange turn of events.

With a familiar twist of his wrist the glass orb disappeared. He crossed to her with what Sarah could only describe as a swagger, his lean hips swiveling with each step until finally he was before her. He shone – literally _shone_ – with an otherworldly light, which would make perfect sense because he did hail from another world.

"My, my, my," Jareth muttered. "This _is_ a most unusual set of circumstances. One for the record books to be sure."

She'd changed since they'd last parted, and although he'd peered into her life via one of his crystals, the reality was far more striking. She was a woman now, with little left of the young girl he recalled. At fifteen she'd held the promise of beauty, and now years later that promise had been realized. Yes, gazing at her through his inadequate crystals did not do her justice.

.Jareth asked, "Did you summon me, dear Sarah? Or perhaps," he gestured toward the child still immersed in sucking his thumb, "this little chap might have been the one?"

"I… I don't know what happened, or how you got here." She pulled the young boy behind her, shielding him from any possible harm. "Jesse couldn't have called you; he wouldn't know anything of you, _or_ the Labyrinth. No one does. I've told no one!"

Her voice had a pleasant husky tone to it, one not there before. Before, she'd been frightened, but now she sounded more incredulous than anything else. More confused as well. The last time he'd appeared she'd known exactly why, and so confusion had not been uppermost in her mind then. But now there was true confusion in her lovely green eyes and something else that Jareth could not put a name too.

"And, yet, here I stand," Jareth remarked while placing his hands on his hips. "How do account for that?"

"I can't." She sounded agonized. "Until recently, I thought you were a dream," she whispered. Touching her hand to her head, she swayed slightly before continuing, "Until recently, I hadn't thought much about you at all."

Well, that was quite the blow to his ego. Fortunately he was in possession of a healthy one. Still, it rankled that she hadn't thought of him while the same could not be said as far as he was concerned.

"No matter," he answered, carelessly dismissing her words. "I have business to attend."

Suddenly, several more little bodies turned the corner, and then stopped at seeing such an alien person standing near Miss Sarah.

Throwing out her arms, Sarah ordered the mass of youngsters, "Stay behind me!"

"Who is _that_?" Mary-Lou demanded in a high pitched squeak. "He's purty," she proclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder.

Sarah almost laughed at the gob-smacked expression on Jareth's face at being called pretty, and then she watched in fascination as a flush of color began to darken on his high cheekbones. Sarah could not believe it. The unflappable Goblin King was _blushing_!

"Control your children, Sarah," Jareth snapped at her.

Millie, who was much shyer than her sister, tentatively waved at Jareth from where she clung onto Sarah's leg. Before he could stop him self Jareth raised his own hand and gave Millie a short wave. She giggled before hiding her face in the material of Sarah's jeans.

Jareth's answering smile absolutely took Sarah's breath away! How had she ever forgotten his magnificence? That stunning shock of white-gold hair? Those amazing one-of-a-kind eyes? She had to have been stunted in the brain to have forgotten all of that!

"Quiet children," she shushed them. "We don't want to wake the babies."

 _Babies_? When he had peered at her through a crystal, he recalled seeing her with one baby. _Exactly how many children did Sarah have_? He did a quick head count. Four that he could see, and one baby that he knew about.

Stamping her foot, Mary-Lou proclaimed, "Will not! Wanna talk to purty man."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jareth huffily commanded, "Explain to this child that I am not a man." A repulsed expression settled on his exotic features. "The very idea is revolting!"

Brow furrowed, Sarah asked in exasperation, "What exactly am I supposed to tell them? That you're a fairy king?'

Little eyes widened in wonder, quickly followed by a chorus of 'oohs' at Sarah's pronouncement.

"Not fairy! Fairies little, like Tinker Bell!" Mary-Lou proclaimed in her best know-it-all way.

"Can I be your pwin-cess?" Millie asked timidly.

Horrified, Sarah exclaimed, "No," while grabbing onto Millie's shoulder. "I'm sorry darling, I didn't mean to startle you," Sarah assured the now shaken child. "But I think your mummy and daddy would be sad if you ran off to be a princess."

 _So, they are not all her children after all_. Jareth found himself feeling, for some strange reason, relieved.

"Princesses belong to princes," Jareth patiently explained to the little girl. "I am a king. Therefore, I need a queen."

"Do you have wun?"

Sarah couldn't have been surprised than if Millie had begun to sprout another head. She _never_ talked to strangers. It had taken Millie months to feel comfortable enough to even say, 'hello' to her, and longer for Gideon. Yet, here she was making conversation with – of all people – Jareth!

"Such an inquisitive child," Jareth mumbled. He was finding this question and answer session quite entertaining. "If you must know, little princess," Millie beamed and the name he'd called her, "I do indeed have a queen."

Sarah did a double-take. "What?

Looking once more into Sarah's eyes, he asked, "Why so surprised, dear Sarah?"

"I just… I mean…," she stammered. "Oh god, I don't know what I mean."

Jareth threw back his head and let out a hearty laugh.

Sarah closed her eyes trying to steel herself against his blazing beauty. She'd barely escaped his spell when she was fifteen. And back then, his attentions had been cold, haughty, and arrogant. But this, – his laughter – was something alien; alien and beyond bewitching.

"Sarah," he chuckled in true delight, "I cannot recall the last time I have enjoyed myself so much." In truth, he hadn't felt this good in _years_.

"Yeah, we're a real hoot, all right," was her dry response.

"Indeed," he agreed. "I would take you all back to act as my court-jesters, but I fear you would quickly lose the desire to make me laugh if I were to do so."

Bristling at the very idea of stealing the children away, Sarah threw caution to the wind. "If you lay one hand on any of these children, buster, just _one_." She held up her pointer finger, "I'll rip every last white hair from your arrogant-addled head!"

"Threats, Sarah?" His voice was filled with cool hauteur, but it didn't frighten her… much. The children were her main priority, and she would defend them with her life. Hopefully it wouldn't come down to that.

Sarah tilted her chin in defiance, and with forced composure answered, "If that's what it takes. I should warn you, I take kick-boxing and martial arts classes!" It was a fib if there ever was one, but Sarah was desperate.

Jareth scrutinized her with keen interest. Did she _really_ think that she could best him at hand-to-hand combat? Ridiculous! That aside, had she completely forgotten that he had no need to perform such barbaric acts? He had magic at his constant disposal. Still, he admired her bravery even if it was a bravery born of stupidity.

"You cannot stop me," he informed her with calm certainty. "You, of all people, must be aware of this."

"Bad man?" Sarah looked down at James. How could she answer his question without scaring him? The truth was; Jareth was bad. She knew it. He knew it. Anyone who'd met him knew it!

She was struggling to come up with something that wouldn't scare the kids out of their wits when she heard it. Jareth heard it too. Someone was whistling, and Sarah knew just who that someone was.

Gideon turned the corner. He still whistling itsy-bitsy spider. In one hand he held a Styrofoam cup of coffee and in the other… Sarah closed her eyes in despair.

"Hey, look what I found in the car," he said, sounding like his cheery old self. "It's a beaut of a story. All about a Goblin King. Might be a bit girlie for the boys, but it's something new."

 

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah and Jareth argue bitterly over the red book, and Sarah finally remembers it all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have edited all the chapters of this fic. Please go back and re-read the previous chapters because I also changed some things around and added more/new dialogue. If you're not up to re-reading the whole thing then I suggest you at least go back over chapters 7, 8, 9 and 10.
> 
> My thanks to Happyfish who helped get me back on track with this fic!

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**Dare To Heir**

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**Chapter**

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11

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Jesse broke away from the horde hiding behind Sarah and ran toward the grinning Gideon.

"Mr. Gideon, Mr. Gideon…Guess what!"

"Careful there, Jess." Gideon raised the cup of coffee higher so as not to spill any on the barreling child.

In a breathless voice, Jesse exclaimed, "There's a _real_ king here!"

Gideon gasped, and then in an awed voice said, " _Really_! How exciting!"

Jesse's caramel curls danced around his vigorously nodding head. Pointing in Jareth's direction, he declared ecstatically, "Yep! See!"

Apparently, Gideon _did_ _n't_ see because he turned in Jareth's direction and – without batting an eye at his odd appearance or apparel – bowed low saying, "Good afternoon, your majesty."

Jareth's brow flew up. Stating the obvious, he remarked with a tinge of surprise, "He cannot see me. This is truly fascinating. I have never gone unnoticed by a mortal before."

I'll bet Sarah thought wryly. Jareth would certainly be hard to miss, and the fact that Gideon was missing him had her torn between relief and annoyance. On one hand, she wasn't going to have to come up with some crazy story to explain away Jareth's presence. On the other, it would have been a load off of her mind to be able to share this situation with another adult. Maybe, together, they could have tried to reason out how to untangle this unholy mess. Unfortunately, for her, it seemed as if she was destined to take on the Goblin King alone. So, if she were going to deal with him by herself, then she better get on with it.

In an effort to remove the children from danger, Sarah blurted out hurriedly, "I think Mr. Gideon should take you all back to the nap room." After corralling the children – sans Jesse who still stood next to Gideon – into a loose embrace, Sarah managed to push them in Gideon's direction. "Hurry along, now! Don't dawdle!"

Gideon's face twisted into a frown at how desperate she sounded. Immediately he flew into Irene mode. "Are you okay?" Tucking the book under his arm, he strode closer and peered directly into Sarah's face. "Are you feeling sick? Faint? Dizzy?" Placing the back of his hand on her forehead, he said in a relieved voice, "No fever, so that's good. Still, maybe you should go home. There's no sense pushing it your first day back."

"Have you been ill?" Jareth asked, sounding both demanding and accusatory.

"It's _none_ of your business," Sarah snapped back angrily, "Just stand there and be quiet!" At Gideon's hurt expression, Sarah quickly added, "I'm sorry, Gideon. I didn't mean y…" Softening her voice, she said, "I know you're just worried, but I'm fine. Really."

Looking far from convinced, Gideon opened his mouth, but Sarah got there first and with eyes that pleaded, asked, "Can you take them back, please?"

"Sure," he agreed, after a moment's hesitation, fully intending to revisit the subject once the children weren't around to hear. Pasting on a smile for the benefit of the kids, he briskly clapped his hands together while announcing with lots of enthusiasm, "Okay gang, let's all head back to the nap area."

With great reluctance, and a whole slew of grumbling from Mary Lou, Gideon managed to rustle the swarm of youngsters back into the other room. Before turning the corner, he held out the red book and said, "I found it in the back seat of the car. It must have fallen out of the box of supplies somehow."

Sarah eyed the object with barely concealed horror. "Uh… why don't you take it with you? _Do_ _n't_ read it to the kids!" Noting Gideon's perplexed expression at her overly vehement request, she said more calmly, "I'm certain the boys won't enjoy it at all."

"Take the book, Sarah," Jareth commanded quietly.

Giving him a side-long glare, she bit out waspishly, " _No_!"

Jareth snapped in exasperation, "Once summoned I cannot leave empty-handed. Answers could be found within its' pages. If you do not take the book, in all probability, I cannot return. That being the case, it is of the utmost importance that you obey me."

"You're not the boss of me," Sarah proclaimed angrily, inadvertently amusing Jareth with her childishness. "If it's so damned important, why don't _you_ take the blasted thing? Believe me; I'm more than ready to see the back of you!"

Motioning in Gideon's direction with his lustrously gleaming head, Jareth patiently explained, "The object which your fellow-human holds has not been touched by Fae hands for several centuries. I have no way of knowing the consequences if I were to touch it after it having been Above for so long a time."

"Afraid of getting contaminated by mortal cooties," Sarah asked derisively. "Too bad! I'm not touching that thing with a ten-foot pole."

Frowning, Jareth murmured fiercely, "Objects created from magic yield to the spell placed upon it by the creator. I do not know who created the book, but the rules must be observed." Sarah rolled her eyes. As if, he even knew, _how_ to follow the rules. "My point being that this particular item was created for mortal use; not Fae. _You_ , however, have held it extensively and not suffered dire repercussions. If it is the only way for us to discover what is happening; then you _must_ take it"

Sarah, whose eyes sparkled angrily, huffed through tightly gritted teeth. "Not suffered?! Are you _kidding_ me? That thing brought me nothing but trouble. I was lured into flights of fancy by the words on those pages. Not to mention the fact that it sucked me into a world of make believe where I almost completely lost myself. Worse, it almost cost me Toby!"

Clicking his tongue and sounding very disappointed, Jareth muttered quietly, "I had thought you would have grown out of this pension for blaming others for your misdeeds." Sarah's face clouded over with guilt. "It was _your_ imagination which woke the books' magic. The blame for all that occurred, lies squarely with you, and no one else."

Sarah gazed at her nemesis with such a forlorn expression that Jareth felt his chest tighten in response. How sad and vulnerable she appeared. Regardless of how she appeared to him now, he knew full well that Sarah Williams had hidden strength at her disposal.

"It is not mere coincidence that has brought us together once more," Jareth pointed out reasonably. "There must be a purpose to all of this. Clearly, I was not summoned in the unusual manner. Let us discover the nature of this fascinating phenomenon. Repeating myself is annoying and tiresome, but there seems to be no other recourse where you are concerned, so I say to you once more: Take the book, for it might hold the answer."

Torn between fear and curiosity, Sarah hesitated, then having made up her mind she whispered, "Give it to me, Gideon."

"Sarah," Gideon began in a soft voice, "I think we should call the doctor."

Puzzled, Sarah asked, "Whatever for?"

"Have you been listening to yourself," Gideon chided gently. "You've been holding a conversation with thin air. I'm worried that you could be having an adverse reaction to the medication. While you were in the bathroom at the hospital, the doctor did mention that a small percentage of people might have hallucinations. It was something we were specifically to keep an eye out for, just in case."

If only it were that simple, Sarah thought miserably.

"No, no it's nothing like that at all," she was quick to assure him. "I do feel a slight head-ache coming on, so I think I'll go into the office and get a Tylenol. The quiet will do me good, and maybe I'll take a nap on the couch. You go back and play with the kids and get them their snack. The little monsters are probably starving by now."

"If you're sure," he answered still worried.

Nodding, she replied, "I am. Now, give me the blasted thing and get going."

Jareth had no way of knowing what the outcome would be once Sarah had the book in her grasp. It was eons old magic, and when dealing with such magic one must exercise great care. Often, it was unstable and quite volatile. This being the case, he watched with intense, glittering eyes as she reached tentatively for the enchanted item. It was almost anti-climatic when absolutely nothing of import occurred upon the tips of her fingers gliding over the books' cover.

Sarah let out a huge sigh of pent up emotion, clutching the book to her heaving breasts. It was a massive relief that not a whit happened. No flashes of light, no mental pictures bombarding her mind, and no menacing Goblin King trying to tempt her with promises that he had no intention of fulfilling. She did, however, notice a slight tingling coming from the book, and while it may not have been affecting her mind with broken images – as it did when Toby had given it to her the first time – it was having an effect on her memory.

Frowning, Jareth murmured, "I do not understand." Crossing his arms over his chest, he continued sounding contemplative, "I find it highly improbable, considering the circumstances which must have been manipulated in order for us to have come to this point that this book plays no part in our unexpected meeting." Sighing, he said, "Clearly, I am mistaken."

Jareth _had_ _n't_ been mistaken. The longer she held onto the book, the more long-forgotten memories seeped slowly into her brain. For a huge chunk of her life, she had gone on believing that the majority of her adventures in Jareth's land had been figments of her own imagination. Slowly – as she'd grown up – those imaginative bouts of fiction and been firmly relegated into childish fairy-tales; eventually all but forgotten.

Even when Toby had mentioned the Labyrinth, Sarah's first inclination had been to denounce it as a story she'd made up, although she'd had no real recollections of it all. Not until he had insisted that she take the book. After she had, it had been confusion and chaos in both her waking and dreaming world.

Instead of informing Jareth that the book was actually working, or whatever, she quietly said to Gideon, "Thanks. You better go."

Sarah sounded so defeated that Gideon felt compelled to pull her into a tight hug, whispering in her ear, "You rest, dear heart. I'll make sure the little tykes keep it down to a dull roar. I'll check on you frequently too."

Sarah felt the burn of tears and fought desperately to keep them at bay. No need to worry him further. Hugging him back, she managed rasp out, "You're the best friend a girl could ask for, have I told you that lately?"

Chuckling, Gideon answered playfully, "Not yet today. You've been too busy telling me to back off and quit being such a mother hen. Besides, there's really no need to go around professing your undying love and devotion. I do know that you appreciate and love me."

"I hope so," she muttered into his shoulder. "I'd really hate for you to think otherwise just because I don't stand in the town square ringing a bell, and declaring it out loud on a hourly basis."

Rubbing her back in a soothing up and down motion, Gideon replied, "No worries on that score, my love.

Jareth watched this intimate exchange with cool, calculation. It wasn't in his nature to be moved by mortal exchanges of affection. In point of fact, he was seldom the recipient of physical expressions of emotion. Therefore, he considered such actions highly embarrassing at best and uncomfortably cumbersome at worst. Other than Willum's infrequent clasping of the shoulder, Jareth rarely allowed anyone the liberty of touching him.

Exceptions were made, of course, such as in the event of trying to conceive a child. There was no other recourse other than physical intimacy in such cases although, even then, Jareth had kept himself somewhat removed from the process. Not to say that he didn't enjoy indulging in pleasures of the flesh; his body reacted to physical stimuli just like any others' would. Still, while his body might respond, his heart remained untouched and aloof.

Pulling herself together, Sarah forced a small smile to form around her lips before gently disentangling herself from Gideon's grasp. Patting his face lightly, she ordered good-naturedly, "Get out of here, Mr. Gideon. You have a tribe of loveable troublemakers to give your attention to and, with me out of the picture; I can only assume that you'll have your hands full for awhile."

Placing a smacking kiss to her forehead, Gideon answered with a grin, "Your wish is my command." Face turning suddenly serious, he added, "If you're still not yourself after your nap, I'm calling the doctor. Adverse reactions – especially hallucinations – are nothing to slough off as unimportant. Okay?"

"Fine," Sarah said, seeming to give in gracefully.

Satisfied, Gideon turned and made his way back to the playroom.

Shoulders slumped, Sarah made herself meet Jareth's searching gaze. It was disconcerting, now that she could remember, or - rather was the case, made to remember more clearly – their former dealings with each other. He'd treated her badly from the outset. Sarah supposed that, in some ways, she'd deserved it. Wishing Toby away had been inexcusable of her, but back then, she'd been an unhappy child with a silly notion that everything in her life was unfair. Toby. Irene. Her mother abandoning her only child for another man and a career. Her father's attention having been divided up between three people instead of solely on herself. All of that, and so many more, had fallen into the Unfair category in her mind.

The Goblin King – in her opinion – had taken unfair advantage of her misery. He'd ferreted out her deepest longings and desires attempting to use them against her. He was a cold, unfeeling adversary, mocking her every move and plying her with lie after lie in order to stop her from reaching his castle. Their battle of wits had almost ended badly, but in the end she had defeated him. Him, _and_ his lousy Labyrinth.

"Your human friend seems quite taken with you," Jareth remarked casually. "It is a shame that he does not yet realize that his hopes of mating with you will all come to naught."

Sarah, tempted to smack that snide smirk off of his handsome face, had to clench her hands into fists around the book to keep from doing it. Instead, she snapped angrily, "My relationship with Gideon is positively _none_ of your business. Leave him out of this mess."

Negligently shrugging a shoulder, Jareth answered back, "I was merely pointing out an obvious fact. After all, are you not in possession of the fact that I have a wife? Is not turnaround fair play?" Tapping his pointed chin reflectively, he mentioned with a sneer, "I do remember, when last we met, how you went on and on about the importance of fairness, or the lack thereof. Of course, that was merely your flawed perception of the events which took place."

"You did everything in your power to prevent me from saving Toby!" Waving the book in front of his stony-featured face, she went on bitterly, "The book has restored my memory. I now recall everything, _everything_ you did!" Jareth's eyes narrowed. Oblivious to the danger, she continued, "The lies and empty promises. How you cheated at your own game! The oubliette! That blasted peach and what the poison did to me!"

"Poison? I never…"

Ignoring Jareth's attempt to speak, Sarah cut him off by stepping closer until barely an inch separated them. "You were vile then, and I seriously doubt that has changed." Narrowing her own green eyes gleaming with hatred, she spat out triumphantly, "I beat you before, Goblin King and if I have to… I'll do it again! You have _no_ power over me, you filthy bastard!"

Nostrils flaring violently, along with the tightening of his fine jaw-line, were two subtle indications of the rage coursing through Jareth's entire being. The throbbing vein in his temple and harsh breathing were less subtle, and an intelligent person would have heeded those signs. Sarah was beyond caring; so caught up was she in her own ire and bile.

"Preying on helpless children, for nothing other than, your own amusement? It doesn't get much more twisted and perverted than that." Sweeping her gaze up and down his form, she uttered derisively, "There's _nothing_ royal in such barbaric behavior. You're a coward! A sniveling, whining _coward_!"

"Enough!" Jareth bellowed, grabbing her roughly by the arms. Pushing his face close to hers, he snarled, "How dare _you_ speak to _me_ in such a way."

Refusing to back down in the face of his frightening visage, Sarah hissed back, "I dare it! Whole-heartedly, I dare it!"

Jareth's finger bit into the soft flesh of her forearms as he shook her violently. Sarah's slender neck snapped back and forth causing her vision to swim alarmingly, and she feared she might pass out again. It was this, more than anything that had Sarah fearing for her safety. She did not want to have another seizure, and she wasn't at all sure that Jareth's brutality wouldn't bring on another one.

"You…" Jareth growled, "You… headstrong, foolish, impertinent, misinformed, child!" Each word was punctuated by a vicious shake; Jareth was ferocious in his seemingly justified retribution. "I would whip you within an inch of your life! Flay that smooth, lovely white skin from your bare back until you _begged_ me for mercy!" Gripping her ashen, bemused and – yes, there it finally was, Jareth thought with smug satisfaction – terror-stricken face in between vice-like fingers he sneered venomously, "Do you know what I would do then, _sweet_ Sarah? After I have you before me… at my feet, cowed and quivering in agony, begging _me_ for the release that only _I_ can give you?" He paused for a heartbeat before saying waspishly, "Nothing! I would do _nothing_ to ease your suffering, my little imbecile."

Sarah surprised them both, by letting out a small, hollow laugh before answering breathlessly, only half conscious, "I would expect nothing more or less from the King of demons."

With a violently muttered oath, Jareth seized Sarah's pony-tail, yanking it back sharply. Ignoring her startled moan of protest, he captured her quivering lips with his own; savaging them brutally with his sharp teeth. It was an attack, make no mistake. With ruthless intent, he plundered their delicate, cushiony contours. Her frantic struggles were pointless; holding her resolutely by the waist and hair, he did as he pleased. Not even when the bitter, copper taste of blood seeped between his marauding mouth did he cease his inhuman assault.

What finally drew his attention from teaching this mortal brat a much needed lesson was the strange hissing and burn he felt coming from his chest area. Sarah had the book pressed against the breastplate of his black armor which, he noted was giving rise to small spirals of smoke and flame! The book was melting his armor! Before he had a chance to make sense of this odd occurrence, he was forcibly struck alongside the head by a book-wielding, outraged Sarah.

Clearing his spinning head, Jareth took a moment; artfully unhooking the smoldering, fire-ridden armor, letting it fall to the floor with a loud clunk. Ducking, he barely managed to dodge another blow at Sarah's hand; hearing the air whistle as the book passed over his head. Grabbing her wrist in mid-air he ground the delicate bones together until she whimpered and cried out. He could not allow her to land another strike. The acrid aroma of sizzling hair reached his nose, and he could feel the slight sting of a burn to one of his ears. This book was beyond dangerous to his well-being!

Sarah seemed to call upon untapped, unforeseen strength and ripped her wrist from his grasp. Taking the magical menace in both hands, she grinned nastily, and let out a warrior-like yell intent on bashing his brains in for all she was worth. However, the strike never hit its mark because Jareth, intent on saving himself, managed to place his hands directly onto Sarah's hoping the book would not be able to eat away at his gloves through the protection of her skin. The moment their hands came together – united with that of the book – Jareth's senses toppled sideways.

The next thing he knew, he was stumbling awkwardly in order to keep his balance. No easy feat considering he was now bearing Sarah's weight as well as his own. He placed his arms around her waist to counter-balance, but Sarah had other ideas and used the point of her elbow to jab him sharply in the middle. Finally, righting himself – as well as the ungrateful wretch he was currently attempting to subdue – he was able to get Sarah's arms by her sides, pinning them with his own.

"Will you be still," he rasped into her ear, neatly avoiding her attempt to bash him in the face with the back of her head.

"I bid thee welcome, Jareth, King of the Goblins and Lord of the Labyrinth."

The voice was soft but powerful, seeming to echo all around him. He felt Sarah go completely still in his arms. Standing before them was a woman of stately beauty; tall, with long limbs and fiery red hair. Her eyes were an odd golden shade while her skin was dark brown and, even from here, Jareth could tell that it was marred by wrinkles. She must be of a very great age, for the Fae Folk was seldom bothered by such things unless quite, quite elderly.

Smiling benignly, the woman fixed her peculiar gaze upon Sarah. Then, those amber orbs lit up, glowing with a flickering flame dancing in their very center. Sarah gasped, and Jareth would be lying if he didn't admit that he too was impressed. He was of the opinion that this… being, whatever she was, was responsible for all that had occurred this day.

Raising one arm, she crossed her hand over her chest, laying it between her breasts in formal greeting. The being then graced Sarah with a slight bow at the waist before whispering in a most reverent tone, "Welcome home, Sarah; Savior of the Labyrinth and of all which the Goblin King holds most dear."

 


End file.
